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A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION 








“ ins CHAlM'.Ar, UK MAUi: MICK A SWlClCKlNtl K.OW’ 


lo() 



A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE 
REVOLUTION 

A Story of the Boys and Girls off6 


/ 

AGNES CARR SAGE 

U 

Author of A Little Colonial DaineC “ The Jolly TenJ Etc, 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

MABEL L. HUMPHREY 



NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 



45251 


Copyright, 1899, 

By Frederick A. Stokes Company 


rj-V/O COPIES 





TO 

ALL BOYS AND GIRLS 
WHO ARE 

DESCENDED FROM THE HEROES 
OF 

THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, 
THIS LITTLE TALE OF 
THE TIMES THAT TRIED EVEN 

children’s souls, 

IS LOYALLY DEDICATED 


BY THE AUTHOR, 




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CONTENTS 


I. An Old Fashioned Thanksgiving i 

II. Fly Sparhawk ii 

III. A Visit to Miss Quincy 19 

IV. A Cup of Tea 25 

V. The Boys Help to Stir the Pot 33 

VI. A Provincial Christmas 40 

VII. FHakim Has Some Sport 51 

VIII. Red Coats 58 

IX. The Latin School Boys 67 

X. Little Miss Betty 73 

XL To Arms! To Arms ! 83 

XII. A Sad Birthday 94 

XIII. The Buff and Blue Cockade 102 

XIV. Quaker Days iii 

XV. Madcap Peggy 119 

XVI. True 126 

XVI 1 . The Liberty Bell 135 

XVIII. Peggy’s Prank 142 

XIX. A Dish of Peas 150 

XX. Betty to Mercy 157 

XXL Lucile 165 

XXIL In the Old Sugar House 170 

XXIII. The Changes and Chances of War 181 

XXIV. On the Bowling Green 186 

XXV. Hail to the Chief ! 195 









A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION 


CHAPTER I. 

AN OLD-FASHIONED THANKSGIVING. 

“Thanksgiving’s roast turkey was a bird of good size, 

While she filled in all chinks with her puddings and pies.” 

Father Time’s Reception. 


A FAIR Indian Summer day, in the year of our Lord, 1773, 
was drawing to a glorious purple and golden close and the 
farewell rays of the setting sun shed a rosy and fairylike 
radiance even over Pudding Lane, a neat but modest 
thoroughfare of Old Boston. 

It had been an unusually mild Autumn — Summer still 
lingered as though loath to depart and the grass in the trim 
courtyards before the white, wooden houses was still green, 
while the evening air felt balmy and pleasant to young 
Betty Melville swinging on the third gate in the row and 
gazing eagerly down the street. 

A pretty little girl was Betty, with wilful, golden curls 
peeping out from beneath her “ musk-melon ” hood, and 
soft brown eyes that easily overflowed at the sight of sor- 
row and suffering and as readily danced with mirth at the 
least bit of fun or mischief. When, too, she flung back her 
butternut-coloured cloak, a most dainty little figure was re- 
vealed, enveloped though it was in a high-necked and long- 
sleeved “ tire ” or pinafore of blue homespun. 


2 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 


How long they are ! What can be detaining them ? ” 
she murmured more than once as she swung back and forth, 
while the gate hinges creaked ominouslyo At length, how- 
ever, her watch was rewarded and, as two boys of about ten 
and twelve years appeared around the corner, she scampered 
down the street to meet them. “ Did you get all the 
things. Win ? ” she called, as she approached. “ The hick- 
ory nuts and dried plums and some of the real Liberty 
tea?" 

“ Aye, aye, every single thing, I believe," replied the 
shorter of the lads, holding aloft several parcels. '‘The 
nuts and plums I bought at Ben Thompson s shop, but he 
was entirely out of red-root. It seems it is in monstrous 
demand, for folks like it better than sage or catnip or 
raspberry leaves. So down we went to Mr. Campbell 
at the Salutation Tavern. He was very kind and let me 
have a whole half-pound as soon as he heard how ailing 
the mother is." 

“ I am so glad, for it will be a change from the spearmint 
and bea-balm tea she has been drinking so long,” said Betty. 
“ But pah ! nasty, bitter herbs they are everyone of 'em,” 
and she screwed her small features into a wry grimace at 
the remembrance. 

“Just so thinks my poor, old granny," laughed Joe Lover- 
ing, the elder of the youths. “ How, too, she does fume 
and fret for a cup of real Hyson ! She says that liberty is 
a miserable sort of thing which robs an old woman of her 
only drop of comfort." 

“ But, Joe, then she cannot be a true patriot," exclaimed 
Winthrop Melville indignantly. “ For there is not a loyal 
lady in Boston, who has not pledged herself to stop drink- 
ing China tea, until the King’s ministers over the water see 
fit to remove the three-pence duty on it, as they have had 
to do on glass and paper. Father explained it all to Betty 







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AN OLD-FA SmONED THANKSGIVING. 


3 


and me, and as for mother — I believe she would die of the 
headache before she would take a taste of Congo.” 

“ So would my mother,” said Joe, “ But Granny Lovering 
was born in old England and still thinks the King can do no 
wrong. Sometimes, I fancy, she even looks on mammy 
and me as rebels. But she is a good old soul and I love 
her dearly.” 

“Our mother has Tory relations also,” put in Betty. 
“ Very grand folks who live in New York. Last year they 
sent her a beautiful flowered gown of imported twisted da- 
mask. She looks monstrous fine in it. But you will see 
for yourself, to-morrow, when you come to eat Thanksgiv- 
ing dinner with us.” 

“You may bet your last farthing I shall be on hand,” 
snickered Joe. 

“ You had better, lad, you had better,” roared Winthrop. 
“ For there is to be such a turkey ! It has been fattening 
for a month and is puffed out like a Drum-Major. For a 
week, too, have I been kept busy pounding spices in the 
mortar and crushing and sifting the rock-salt for season- 
ing.” 

“ While I believe I must have stoned bushels of raisins 
and cut up pounds and pounds of citron, and candied orange- 
peel,” declared Betty, who was an old little body for her 
seven years. “ But I don’t care now that the pies are 
made. You ought to see them — mince pies and pumpkin 
pies and cranberry pies and green currant pies, and one 
enormous Marlborough-pudding pie ! All set out in rows 
on the pantry shelves. There are enough to last until 
Spring and oh, how good they do smell ! It makes my 
mouth water to look at ’em.” 

“ And our mouths will do something more than water to- 
morrow,” giggled Winthrop, “ But see, Betty, mother is 
beckoning to us from the window. Father must be at home 


4 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 


and Mehitable has the supper on the table. Good-night, 
Joe ! We will see you and Mercy in the morning.” 

During the night the wind veered round to the north, 
there was a sudden fall in temperature, and Thanksgiving 
dawned clear but cold. 

“ We must have a fire in the front-room,” declared Thomas 
Melville and he early summoned Winthrop to assist in 
bringing in the big hickory logs and piling them in the deep 
fireplace, all ready to light on their return from church. 
Meanwhile, Mehitable, the family “ help ” (she would have 
fiercely resented being called a servant) was bustling about, 
getting her turkey and chicken pie safely located in the 
great brick oven, before following her mistress and the 
children to the Old South Meeting House where was 
gathered the cream of Boston Puritans, and where no voice 
rose higher in the psalm singing,. than did that of Mehitable 
Sparhawk. A Yankee of the Yankees was she and some 
of the naughty boys used to say she threatened to drown 
the bass viol in the gallery, when old Sol Baxter set the tune 
of “ St. Martins” with his pitch-pipe and the choir sang : 

“ Let children hear the mighty deeds, 

Which God performed of old, 

Which in our younger days we saw, 

And which our fathers told.” 

A sharp eye, too, did she keep on Betty and Winthrop, 
and a bony, warning finger was shaken threateningly did 
they venture the breath of a whisper during the long prayer 
or fidgetted throughout the sermon. To-day, too. Parson 
Bacon’s prayers were more lengthy than usual and so was 
his sermon, dwelling, as he did, on sundry weighty matters 
that were disturbing men’s minds and stating his political 
views in a more free and secular manner than was deemed 
seemly on the Sabbath. But the youth of the congregation 
was upheld by a thought of the feast that was to follow, 


AJV" OLb-PASHlONEb TtiAlSfiCSGlVlMC. 


7 


mother as mine,” said Winthrop, kissing her slender hand ; 
while Betty cried : “ I do not believe even the Governor’s 
lady looks half so fine.” 

Only Mehitable was grave, and slammed down the plates 
on the dinner table as she muttered, “ Some folks is drefful 
blind. Can’t they see that that bodice hangs on her like a 
meal-sack ! Sartain sure the ways of Providence air drefful 
hard to understand.” 

But it was a truly happy party gathered around the 
blazing logs in the front room, when the Loverings arrived ; 
Mrs. Lovering neatly clad in her widow’s weeds and with 
nine-year-old Mercy hanging on her arm like a gay little 
work-bag ; while Joe tenderly helped his grandmother up 
the steps and ensconced her in a comfortable armchair. 

“ Glad to see you, neighbours, glad to see you,” cried 
Thomas Melville cordially, shaking hands all round, and then 
hastened off down cellar to draw great pitchers of foaming 
cider in which they later drank everybody’s health, and 
wealth and prosperity to the Commonwealth. 

But first, full justice had to be done to the Thanksgiving 
turkey, the savory chicken pasty, the long array of vegetables, 
the Indian pudding, and all the other evidences of Mehita- 
ble’s culinary skill, while that hand maiden occupied a seat 
at the lower end of the board and dished out the edibles 
with a heavy and bountiful hand. 

“ How was it, Mrs. Lovering, that we did not see you at 
the Old South, this morning?” enquired the host as he 
plunged his knife into the plump fowl. “You missed a 
fine discourse.” 

“ I expect so,” replied that lady. “ But mother wanted 
me to go with her to the Hollis Street Church where we 
really belong. She thinks there is no one like Mather 
Byles ; but as his views and mine do not always agree, I 
often wander off to the other meeting.” 


S A LtTTLk DAUGitTEk 6F TtiE REVOLUTtOi^. 

“Well, was the witty parson as pungent as ever?” 

“That he was,” cackled Granny. “You ought to have 
heard his hits at the tea caddies filled with nauseous yarbs. 

‘ Verily,’ said he, ‘ I think the Liberty cads be worse than the 
Liberty lads.’ ” 

“ By which I suppose he meant the Sons of Liberty of 
whom I happen to be one,” exclaimed Mr. Melville flushing 
angrily, seeing which his wife hurried to make a diversion by 
asking, “Have you tried the red-root Dame? No? Well 
then you must. Mehitable, pour a cup of the Jersey tea for 
our guest.” 

This the old lady condescended to taste, but in very 
small sips. “ It is better than catnip,” she acknowledged. 

“ But I am always hungering and thirsting for a drop of 
the real article. I would have it, too, if Roxanna was not * 
so set in her ways.” 

“ Of course I am in this,” said her daughter-in-law, “ for ' 
I was one of those who pledged my word to give up the 
Chinese herb, until the tax be removed.” 

“ But they tell me there be plenty of untaxed stuff smug- 
gled in from Holland.” 

“ We ought to scorn to buy that,” said Thomas Melville. 

“ Oh, yes, it is all very well for you men-folks to talk, 
when you can go down to the Green Dragon and cheer the 
cockles of your heart with a glass of grog or cider. But it is 
different with us poor old women ; while, when I was young, 
like Mercy and Betty here, I was taught that God and the 
King could do no wrong.” 

“ Ah, it is a poor sort of a Whig, mother, you are any- 
way,” laughed Mrs. Lovering good-naturedly. “It was 
lucky for poor granny that my dear, dead husband — who 
was a sea captain — fetched several chests of fine Bohea 
from foreign parts. That lasted until a month ago, but 
now it is gone, I cannot reconcile it with my conscience to 


Alsr OL£>-FASmoJVEl> rJ7AArJirSG/P^/ArO. 9 

let any tea, at present bought and sold, come within my 
doors.” 

“ I think you are in the right,” agreed Mrs. Melville. 

But the dame still grumbled on. “All fiddlesticks is 
that! And everybody is not so particular. It is three 
years since that ridiculous paper was signed and few there 
be that stick to it. Now there’s Mistress Pearson, as good 
a Whig as any of ye, and last week she told me that she con- 
stantly purchased smuggled tea and made it in a coffee-pot 
without a soul being the wiser.” 

“ Then she ought to blush to tell it ; ” broke out Mehitable 
explosively, while small Mercy asked in astonishment, 
“ But, granny, if she was a signer, do you think that was 
quite honest ? ” 

“You bet it wasn’t,” shouted Winthrop, and only his 
mother’s hand on his shoulder restrained him, while she said 
with a smile, — “ Come friends, do not let our Thanksgiving 
dinner become too spicy over this disputed point, or it may 
spoil the flavour of my pumpkin pie, of which I am extremely 
proud. By the way, too, I wanted to ask you, Dame 
Lovering, if you remembered old Deacon Pepper of 
Plymouth t ” 

“To be sure I do, and many a Thanksgiving day have I 
sat at his table.” And, being thus tactfully switched off on 
another track, the old lady was soon in her glory, relating 
how Deacon Pepper always made a point of having five 
grains of parched corn placed beside each plate at the Har- 
vest Home feast, in remembrance of the privations endured 
by the Pilgrim Fathers when food ran low, and five kernels 
was the daily ration doled out to each starving colonist. 

“ I am glad I did not live then,” sighed Betty contentedly, 
as she took a large bite out of a frosted cake. 

“ But later, when the wild geese and turkeys came, the 


10 


A little DAVGitTEk OE THE REVoLVTLOH. 


boys must have had a jolly time, shooting with their fowl- 
ing pieces,” said Joe. 

So, after all, the holiday dinner concluded in peace and 
harmony and early candle light still found the older people 
recalling past days in Old England and New England, 
beside the hickory fire ; while the children cracked nuts, 
munched apples and played at Blind Man’s Buff, Puss in the 
Corner, Roast Beef behind your Back, and Come Philander. 


CHAPTER II. 


FLY SPARHAWK. 


“ Wall no ! I can’t tell you whar he lives, 
llecase he don’t live you see, 

Leastways he’s got out of the habit 
Of livin’ like you and me.” 

John Hay, 

The boys and girls were resting after one warm and excit- 
ing game, and Mercy was reeling off conundrums for the 
edification of Winthrop and Joe, when Betty, who had 
stepped out for a drink of water, came rushing back, exclaim- 
ing : O, Win, Fly Sparhawk is in the kitchen with Mehita- 
ble. He has walked way over from Roxbury, and she is 
giving him some dinner.” 

“ Goody ! goody ! Now we will have sport ! ” cried Win- 
throp, “ Come on, Joe ; come, Mercy ! We’ll get Fly to do 
the Wry Mouth Family for us. He is jolly at that and it 
would make a horn bug laugh to see his funny faces.” 

With a rush then, the whole quartet burst into the big 
sanded back room, where was seated a long, lank individual 
in brown homespun, a huge mug of cider raised to his lips 
and before him a plate heaped with turkey bones, mashed 
potatoes, gravy, and cranberry sauce. “ Hello, Fly ! 
“ Hello 1” They shouted uproariously. We’re mon- 
strous glad to see you.” 

Wal, naow,” drawled the visitor, ‘'that’s what I thought. 
I’m real glad to see you young uns and I sort of calculated 
you’d be tickled with a sight o’ Sp I strolled over front 


12 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 


Roxbury thisarternoon to find out haow you was all keepin* 
Thanksgivin’. All the way, too, I kep’ a smellin' Hitty s 
fowl a roastin’ and her pies a bakin’. Beats all for pies, 
doos my Sister Hitty, an’ that 1 always allows.” 

“Now, Fliakim, you shut up,” put in Mehitable, “your 
nose is long, but ’taint long enough to snuff victuals three 
miles off ! 1 never did hold with lyin’, even in fun.” 

“ See here, Mehitable, thar’s no need to take a feller up 
so drefful quick ! You dunno’ haow the gnawin’s of 
hunger doos sharpen the senses, an’ I swan I did smell tur- 
key though mebbe ’t warn’t yourn. The truth is, I hevn’t 
tasted a morsel sense half-past six breckfuss an’ I ben a 
standin’a full hour daown on the wharf watchin’ three ships 
a sailin’ up the harbour. Awful purty sight ! But air off 
salt water doos make one feel sort o’ empty an’ sinkin’ inside.” 

“Then, for pity’s sake do fall to and fill up, ’stead o’ 
chinnin’ so much,” snapped Miss Sparhawk who, brisk and 
energetic herself, had small patience with her lazy, easy- 
going brother whose motto was “never do to-day, what 
you can possibly put off till to-morrow.” 

“Bless me, ef she ain’t a spinner!” ejaculated Fliakim, 
half admiringly, and pausing with his mug suspended in 
mid-air, “ I don’t believe Hitty would give a feller time to 
draw his last breath, she’d be in sech a desperate hurry to 
hev’ him die an’ be done with it.” 

“ Then I pray I won’t hev to watch you peg out,” retorted 
Mehitable. “You’d be sure to hev so many last words the 
undertaker would be round with his bill before you were 
dead.” Although all the time, she was busily engaged cut- 
ting generous slices of mince, apple, and pumpkin pie and 
piling them on a pewter plate, for the object of her raillery. 

“ It’s lucky for me Mehitable’s bark is so much wuss’n her 
bite,” chuckled the good-natured rustic, plunging into the 
dainties, “ Naow, conversation at meals is real healthy an’ 


FL Y SPARHA WK. 


n 


I like to let digestion dew her perfect work as it were. 
Why, my sister’s internal machinery must whiz raound 
faster’n a wind-mill.” 

“ I wish, then, some part of you would whiz ! You’re Fly 
by name, but that’s all the fly round there is to you, Brother 
Slow-coach ! ” 

Oh no, ’taint, Hitty, no ’taint ! I’m a Butterfly, I am — 
specially when buckwheats air plentiful — an’ I gayly flit 
from flower to flower. If, too, like the butterflies I ‘toil 
not, neither do I spin ’ I guess I’m abaout as well off. Then, 
last week, when I hed a cold I was a Hoarse-fly an’ no 
mistake!” And the countryman cackled gleefully at his 
own wit, the children all joining in like a musical chorus. 

But Mehitable only sniffed contemptuously and flounced 
off into the buttery, muttering — “ And the busy bees who 
‘ improve each shining hour,’ must forever be sharing their 
honey with the shiftless flies.” 

And, truly, theenergetic New England woman had reason 
to thus bitterly carry on the metaphor. From his early 
teens, Fliakim had been something of a thorn in his sister’s 
side, on account of his distaste for steady work and fondness 
for wandering through the woods and fields with his gun, 
— or spending whole days sitting on a fence, whistling and 
whittling a stick. He dwelt alone with his dog, a pet squir- 
ril and a decrepit owl, in a tumble-down shanty, on the out- 
skirts of Roxbury and only did enough odd jobs to keep 
soul and body together and furnish him with tobacco, while 
Mehitable supplied his raiment and came to the rescue when 
he got into a tight place, as he occasionally did. 

Yet he was a merry, taking creature, always ready with a 
joke or a story, a perfect “news letter” for gossip, and the 
best marksman in all the country round. There were few 
houses where he was not welcome and all children adored 
him, for no one could mend broken toys, rig boats, snare 


14 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLVTIOH, 


birds and trap rabbits like this indolent but clever good-for- 
nothing. 

“ But, Fly, what vessels were those that were coming up 
the bay?” enquired Joe, when the laugh had subsided; for 
the boy had inherited a taste for salt water and was always 
interested in ships and seafaring news ; “ Were they India- 
men ? ” 

“Ay, three Injymen ! The Eleanor, the Dartmouth 
an’ a brig named the Beaver. * They drapped anchor 
at Griffin’s Wharf, but a sailor daown yonder told me 
he’d wager a shillin’ they’d never land their cargoes in 
this ere port.” 

“ Why not?” asked Mercy. 

“’Cause Missy, it is all China tea they hev on board an’ 
tea ain’t what you might call a pop’lar beverage in Boston 
jest naow. Some folks say Governor Hutchinson will be 
obleeged to send them crafts back whar they come from.” 

“ Like whipped curs with their tails between their legs,” 
snickered Winthrop. 

“Jess so, jess so,” assented Fliakim, taking a nip of 
cheese. “ An’ long as ’tisn’t ’baccy, I dun no as I keer. 
But, speakin’ of curs reminds me ! I wanted to ax. Win, 
haow you’d like to hev a dorg ? ” 

“ First rate,” responded the lad heartily, while Betty 
clapped her hands and jumped for joy. 

“ Wal I’ve got abaout the cutest lettle Newfoundland pup 
you ever sot your peepers on. He come to me in the way 
o’ trade. That is, I swapped a fox skin for him an a jug o’ 
’lasses. But my old yaller Spider don’t take to the critter 
an’ one brute is enuff for me anyway. So, I jest thought 


* A slight license as to date has been taken here, as the tea ships really arrived on 
§unday, Nov. 2^. 


FLY SPARHAWIC, 


IS 

rd fotch him over here, ef you cared to hev^ him an’ Mis’ 
Melville hed no objections.” 

‘'Of course I want him,” cried Winthrop, “and I’m sure 
mammy will consent, for only the other day, I heard her 
telling my father that we ought to have a watch-dog, there 
are so many negroes and half-breed Indians hanging round.” 

“ All right. Then I’ll bring him the next time I come. 
An’ naow,” pushing back his chair, “ I believe I am purty 
well wadded. Thank ye all kindly for the best dinner I’ve 
tasted this year.” 

“ Then, dear Fly, if you are through, won’t you tell us 
about the Wry Mouth Family?” pleaded Betty, cuddling 
confidingly up to his side. 

He promptly lifted her onto his knee. 

“What’s that ! Tell you about the Wry Mouth Family? 
Why, lordy massy, yes. To be sure I will. Fly Sparhawk 
ain’t the man to refuse, when sech a sweet leetle lady axes 
him so purty. So, draw up, chillen, draw up an’ listen to 
the tale of that unfortinet family, all but one of whom were 
born with crooked mouths.” 

And presently peals of merriment issued from the kitchen, 
as the youngsters went off into convulsions of laughter at 
the wonderful contortions of the story-teller’s features, when 
he pretended to blow out a candle with distorted and twisted 
lips. 

So merry, indeed, were the sounds that floated into the 
front room that ere long, out came Thomas Melville to see 
what the fun was about and seated himself on the high 
backed settle in the chimney-corner. “ Very good. Fly, very 
good,” he said, when the story was concluded. Then to 
draw the fellow out — remarked, — “Though I don’t suppose 
such a family ever existed. I never meet any queer Wry 
Mouths, do you, Fliakim?” 

“ Wal, no sir, not exactly, but a year or so back I fell in 


l6 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REFOLUT/OH, 

with some folks who lived over Medford way an’ their names 
were most as outlandish as Mary Jane’s an’ Sally Ann’s 
mouths.” 

“ Oh, do tell us about them,” pleaded Mercy. 

“ Wal, I chanced over thar one day, long abaout sun-down, 
an’ feelin’ a trifle thirsty stopped at a haouse, whar a hull 
passel o’ chillen was tearin’ raound the yard, to ax for a sup 
o’ milk. A woman came to the door an’ invited me in 
quite hospitable. ‘Set daown,’ sed she, ‘ Opedildoc fotch 
a cheer for the stranger. Deuteronomy, you run out an’ 
milk the caow ; an’ Gerrymander dew stop that yawpin’.’ 

“ I thanked her an’ set daown while she went to the win- 
der an’ shouted ‘ Dandelion Bellamy, ef you don’t quit pes- 
terin’ Hypothenuse, I’ll come out thar an’ whollop you. 
Jest as I expected. Baby Lobelia hes been woke up. Run 
quick Golconda, an’ rock her off to sleep agin.’ 

“ Excuse me, remarked I, but your boys an’ gals appear 
to hev ruther uncommon names. 

“‘Yes, they hev,’ sez she, ‘an’ we’re real proud of it. 
My husband an’ I wus downright tired of the usual every- 
day names so we sot to work an’ picked out jest the most 
genteel and finest soundin’ ones we could find for our off- 
spring, to sort o’ bolster up their last name which is Snooks. 
Hannibal Duplicate an’ Westminster Catechism hev gone 
into taown but — ’ 

“At that moment a little red-headed thing come runnin’ 
in a snivellin’ an’ cryin’. 

“ ‘ Bless me. Eglantine Aconitum, what’s the matter 
naow ?’ exclaimed the mother. ‘ O ma,’ sobbed the child 
‘we was playin’ Injuns, an’ when Perehelion scalped Convol- 
vulus an’ me, he pulled our hair jest awful. Then the twins, 
Ecclesiasticus an’ Revelations, got on fire an’ Synopsis 
Parallelogram is a throwin’ water on ’em.’ ” 


FLY SPARHAWJir. 


17 


'‘Good heavens what a rigmarole!” roared Joe, nearly 
rolling off his seat with laughter. 

“But did you ever get your milk?” asked Betty who 
always liked a story to be fully completed. 

“ Oh, bless you, yes,” chuckled Fly. “ I hed my milk an’ I 
faound out that it was giv’ by a caow called Wintergreen 
Regina.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! That certainly was the cap sheaf/’ said 
Thomas Melville. 

But at that moment a sharp rapping sounded on the 
outer door and Mehitable going to open it, returned and 
announced : 

“Young Master Revere.” 

“ Ah, Paul, is that you ?” cried the host going out into the 
hall. “ Come in, come in and try a mug of my sweet cider.” 

“ No, not to-night, thank you, Mr. Melville,” replied the 
stripling. “ I only stopped with a message from Dr. Warren. 
He would like a word with you at the Green Dragon if you 
could make it convenient to step down there a moment.” 

“To be sure I can, and will go with you at once,” agreed 
Thomas, seizing his three-cornered hat. 

“ Is it about the tea ships ? ” whispered Winthrop who 
had crept out after his father; and Paul nodded assent as 
they hurried off into the darkness of the November night. 

“ It is time, too, that I was movin’ along,” drawled Fliakim 
rising and stretching his long limbs. “ Be nigh on to ten 
when I git hum naow. Good-bye, Hitty, — good-bye. Win, — 
good-night all. I’ll try and fotch the pup over next week, 
ef I ain’t too tarnal busy.” And he, likewise, ambled off 
toward Roxbury, just as the watch on his round chanted, 
“ Eight o’clock and All’s Well 1 ” 

But Thomas Melville was out very late that night and 
the next day this circular was spread far and wide in Boston, 
Charlestown, and Cambridge — 


l8 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OR THE REVOLUTION, 

The worst of plagues, the detested tea shipped for this 
port by the East India Company, has arrived. The hour 
of destruction or manly opposition to the machinations of 
tyranny stares you in the face. Every friend to his country, 
to himself, and posterity, is now called upon to meet at Fan- 
euil Hall, at 9 o’clock this day, at which time the bells will 
ring, to make a united resistance to this last, worst and 
most destructive measure of administration.” 


CHAPTER III. 


A VISIT TO MISS QUINCY. 


“ Look not on her with eyes of scorn, 

Dorothy Q. was a lady born ! 

Ah 1 since the galloping Normans came, 

England’s annals have known her name. 

And still to the three hill’d rebel town 
Dear is that ancient name’s renown.” 

O. W. Holmes. 

It was nearly three weeks after Thanksgiving when, one 
half-holiday, Betty and Mercy sat together in one of the 
upper rooms of the Melville house. The latter was doing 
her daily stint, knitting on a long blue yarn stocking, while 
her friend pricked her fingers over a most gorgeous sampler 
that was both the pride and despair of her youthful heart. 

“ For I believe I have picked out and put back every 
stitch about a dozen times,” she sighed, as she held up the 
long square of yellow-brown canvas, around three sides of 
which ran a wreath of fruit, flowers and such birds as never 
were on sea or land, closely worked in cross stitch, while 
below appeared a wonderful attempt at a landscape, the 
trees, buildings and beasts all being wrought in many 
coloured silks. 

But I think it will be very fine if it ever is finished,” 
she continued. 

“ It will be lovely,” agreed Mercy heartily. ‘‘ How much 
more is there to do ? ” 

“Only a horses head in this corner and to put the verse 
in the centre»” 


20 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION 


“ What is that to be ? ” 

“ This one,” an^l Betty recited glibly, , 

“ Elizabeth Melville is my name ; J 

America my nation ; t 

Massachusetts is my State, 1 

And Christ is my Salvation I E 

‘Msn’t that nice ?” | 

“ Beautiful ! ” / 

“ And if I do it well, mother says she will have it framed i 
and hung in the best room.” | 

“ Really ! Well,, I should think you would be mon- 
strous proud to see it there. But who can that be ? ” 
For the wonted stillness of Pudding Lane was broken by 
the rattle of wheels coming down the street. 

Both little girls flew to the small-paned window and there, \ 
drawing up at the gate, was Miss Dorothy Quincy in a new 
fangled chaise, driving herself, while beside her on the 
high seat was perched another young lady dressed in the 
extreme fashion of the day. 

“ Oh, maybe she has come for me, as she promised,” 
exclaimed Betty, jumping up and down in her excitement, 

“ And I hope she will ask you, too, Mercy.” 

Just then Miss Dorothy spied the children and beckoned 
them to come down to the bird-cage-like porch before the 
front door, which they hastened to do. 

Well, little folks,” she called, “ Miss Coffin and I are 
here to carry you both off for the afternoon, if you can man- 
age to squeeze into this new but narrow equipage of mine, 
which, I vow, is more modish than roomy. So run and ask 
your mothers and hurry into your cloaks and hoods, for 
my nag does not greatly fancy standing.” 

“We will be ready in a trice,” cried Mercy, scampering 
off to be made tidy, while Mehitable — who was peeping and 
listening in the background — went fussing round like a hen 


A VISIT TO MISS QUINCY. 


21 


with its head cutoff, pulling out Betty’s Sunday-go-to-meet- 
ing gown of blue damask flowered with red, a clean crisp 
white tucker and her best cloak and hood of scarlet broad- 
cloth trimmed with sable fur. 

“ For the child must do us credit when she goes abroad, 
and we don’t want those high cock-a-lorums a-turnin’ up 
their noses at her,” she remarked to her mistress. 

“ I hardly think there is much danger of that,” said Mrs. 
Melville, as she looked into her daughter’s bonny little 
countenance and smoothed her sunny curls. 

“ Good-bye, sweetie, be very amiable and mannerly.” 

“Yes, dear mother.” 

And presently the two happy little maids were driving 
off with the gay girls to the Quincy mansion in Summer 
Street, where everything to .them was like a step into 
wonderland, from the tall negro in livery, who ushered 
them in, to the rich Turkey carpets on the floor and the 
mirrors and portraits on the wall. 

“ It is like walking on a feather bed,” whispered Betty to 
Mercy, as their feet sank deep in the thick soft pile. 

“ Now, Alida Coffin, you must help me entertain my 
young guests,” said Miss Dorothy to her friend when they 
had all laid aside their outer garments. “ So please fetch 
the big book of plates from the library and lay it on this 
table, while I go and tell Caesar to make some sangaree 
and bring us a plate of cheese cakes.” 

Miss Coffin was not so beautiful as Miss Quincy, but she 
was bright and lively and the children were charmed with 
her, when she turned the pages and explained the pictures 
in the great book, which was almost worth its weight in gold. 
“ For I have been to many of those foreign places,” she said. 

“ Oh, how. Joe would like to see these,” cried Mercy. 
“ He is wild about travel and is forever poring over 
‘ The World Displayds.’ ” 


22 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

“And what, pray, is ' The World Displayds’?” asked 
the gay Alida. 

“Why, don’t you know!” exclaimed Miss Dorothy. 
“ It is the quaintest book, published in twenty diminutive 
volumes, and with the most execrable wood cuts.” 

“Joe Lovering likes it because of the pictures of ships,” 
put in Betty. “ Winthrop wants to go to college — but Joe 
means to be a sailor and he knows every vessel that comes 
into the harbour.” 

“ Ah 1 then what does Master Joe think of the Elea^ior 
and the Dartmouth^? ” laughed pretty Dorothy with a 
roguish glance at Alida Coffin. 

“He says they are good strong crafts,” replied Mercy, 
“but hopes they will be sent back where they belong.” 

“ Or all the tea given to the fishes,” added small Betty, 
nodding her yellow head gravely. 

“ Bless me 1 Even the children are catching the infec- 
tion !” Then to further draw them out, the hostess con- 
tinued — “ So this clever Joe does not approve of landing 
the cargoes here ? ” 

“No ma’am, and only last night, granny offered him a 
guinea if he would buy her a pound of China tea on the sly 
and he refused.” 

“ More fool he ! ” sneered Alida. “ This ridiculous 
tempest in a teapot is hard on the old women 1 ” 

“ But you see, Lidy, how strong the feeling is, when for 
a principle a little boy could stand out against such a 
temptation ; I, too, you know content myself with Hyperion.” 

“ Fiddlesticks ! As if King George and his ministers 
were not wiser than we ! And, Dorothy, you were not 
a’ ways such a rampant Whig. It is John Hancock who is 
putting these treasonable ideas into your foolish pate.” 

“ My father says Mr. Hancock is a man of sense,” re- 
piarked Betty soberly, at which the two belles looked amused 


A VISIT TO MISS QUINCY, 


n 


and the little tiff ended in a laugh. But the wee maid 
wondered what could be so funny and why Miss Dorothy, 
blushing to her love-locks, caught her up and kissed her, 
exclaiming: “You are the dearest and oldest mite in> all 
the world, Betty Melville ! ” 

Then dancing off to the spinet, the lively girl sat down 
and played a rollicking air — while, throwing back her grace- 
ful head, she sang, — 

“ My name was'Robert Kidd, 

And so wickedly I did 
God’s laws I did forbid, 

As I sailed, as I sailed.” 

following it up with Ya^ikee Doodle and Cruel Barbara 
A lien. 

Mercy and Betty were enchanted, for a musical instru- 
ment was a rare curiosity to them, and they kept good- 
humoured Miss Quincy playing and singing until black 
Caesar appeared with a silver tray and passed around dainty 
little cakes and thin glasses of a sweet and pleasant 
beverage. 

Before they had finished, too, who should drop in but 
John Hancock and another gallant of the town, who took 
the small maidens on their knees and made much of them, 
while the fair Dorothy ordered a stronger punch than she 
had served to her youthful visitors. 

“Winsome little women, as ever I saw; are they not?” 
remarked the first swain, in an aside to Alida Coffin. 

“Yes and rebels after your own heart, John,” laughed 
that young lady saucily. “You will be pleased to know 
this one has been taught that you are a man of sense. I 
am sure I should never have suspected it, you talk such 
nonsense to me.” 

''Merely made7noiselle D' And the young man bowed 
low. “ My profoundest respects, too, to Miss Betty,” mak- 


24 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


ing a Still lower obeisance, “ But you look sober, little 
one ! What are you thinking about ? ” 

“I was only wondering,” said the child, “if you had 
made your mark yet. Father said you were bound to 
make it. Have you, sir; have you made it, and was it a 
very big, black one such as we get in school, when we are 
bad ? ” 

A ripple of laughter went round the circle, but 
John Hancock kept his face straight and answered quite 
seriously — “ It was a tolerably black mark that I made 
this afternoon,, when I signed a petition to his Excellency 
the Governor.” 

And then the subject dropped as a servant came in to 
light the wax candles in the glittering sconces, and it was 
time for Betty and Mercy to go home, attended by Caesar 
to their own doors. But as the former said “good-night,” 
she flung her arms around Miss Quincy’s neck and whis- 
pered in her ear, “ I love you, dear Miss Dorothy ; and I 
love Mr. John Hancock, too.” 

Winthrop — as well as the rest of the family — was eager 
to hear all his sister had to tell regarding her visit, and 
kept her glib little tongue running like a trip-hammer. 
“ For I have had a stupid enough holiday,” he said. “ I 
felt so sure that Fly would fetch the dog to-day that I did 
not go skating and then he never came. He promised it 
in a week and now it is nearly three since he was here.” 

“ Well, if you had known him as long as I hev,” put in 
Mehitable, “ you’d know waitin’ for Fliakim Sparhawk is 
like waitin’ for the millenium. Never comes when ex- 
pected.” 

And Winthrop, thinking her about right, declared his 
intention of walking over to Roxbury the next day and 
bringing back the pup himself. 



I WAS ONLY WONIJICRING . . . IK YOU IIAIJ MADK YOTTR 
MARK YKT.” — Pa^C 


O 



CHAPTER IV. 


A CUP OF TEA. 

Farewell the tea-board with its gaudy equipage 
Of cups and saucers, cream-bucket, sugar-tongs, 

The pretty tea-chest lately stored 
With Hyson, Congou, and best double fine. 
******* 

Because I am taught (and T believe it true) 

Its use will fasten slavish chaiiis jcp 07 i my country 
To reign triumphant in America.” 

The Lovering’s house was almost a counterpart of the 
Melville’s, having two stories in front and with a “ lean-to ” 
roof reaching groundward in the rear, while a latticed porch, 
with seats on each side, afforded a pleasant lounging 
place for summer evenings. Even the tidy little parlour 
was furnished in much the same manner, with a stuff-covered 
sofa and high straight-backed chairs of cherry wood, with 
griffin feet terminating in a long claw grasping a ball. A 
tall clock ticked away the flight of time in one corner, and 
beneath a looking-glass, shrouded in white muslin, appeared 
a spindle-legged mahogany tea-table, now diverted from its 
original purpose to hold the heavy family Bible and an as- 
sortment of shells and pieces of coral brought home by 
Captain Lovering from some of his voyages. Within the 
blue-tiled fireplace stood brass andirons, while beside it 
rested tongs and shovel of the same glittering metal, and 
all of dazzling brightness. A few rugs upon the floor also 
added a touch of comfort, as well as several modestly 


2 ^ A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

framed pictures upon the wall. But this primly neat apart- 
ment was religiously kept for “best,” and the family much 
preferred the warm, cosy living-room at the back, where the 
mother had her work table and low rocker, the children 
their books and playthings, and Dame Lovering her favourite 
splint-bottomed arm chair in the chimney corner. 

It was here, then, that all were gathered that Wednesday 
night after the Quincy visit, while Mercy — like Betty — 
chatted gayly of her afternoon’s pleasuring, to which even 
the aged woman listened with open ears. She displayed 
a deep interest in Miss Coffin. 

“ For I knew her grandmother well, rarely well,” she said. 
“Madam Davenant and I came over in the same ship from 
the mother country, and lived near neighbours in Plymouth 
for three years or more. It is many a day since I saw 
Barbara Davenant, but I mind hearing that her daughter 
did not live very long after she married one of the New 
Hampshire Coffins, and that Madam had the bringing up 
of her grandchild, AHda. I warrant, too, that she has 
made a true Loyalist of her, as well as a good Church of 
England woman. The Davenants were all Episcopalians, 
and had more money than the Coverings — so we have 
drifted apart, but we were fine friends in the good old times.” 

“ Miss Alida is nice, and funny,” declared Mercy, “but I 
like Miss Dorothy better.” 

“ And you say she thought this foolish tea tiff was hard 
on old women? The dearie! Well, she be right there !” 
and when presently her daughter-in-law was called out of 
the room, she beckoned Joe slyly to her side. “ See here, 
Joey, lad,” she whispered in her most wheedling tone, “ I 
won’t ask ye again to buy me a taste of Hyson, but will ye 
go up to-morrow to Madam Davenant and just borrow a 
few ounces of the rare stuff? She is sure to have it, and 
will not begrudge a trifle to her old friend Mary.” 


A CUP OF TEA. 


27 


O, granny, I would not like to do that,” exclaimed the 
boy, drawing back, and I am certain mother would be 
angry.” 

“Roxanna shall never know it, for I will brew it myself 
when she is away. And listen, lovey, if you will get your 
old grandam a cup of tea, I care not from where, you shall 
have your grandfather’s watch,” and diving into the patch- 
work pocket hung at her side, the old lady drew forth the 
clumsy silver turnip,” which had ever been the desire of 
the lad’s heart, and dangled it coaxingly before his eyes. 

A gigantic temptation that ! And for a moment Joe 
hesitated. It was such a little thing to do, and he really 
loved and was sorry for the trembling, eager old crone. 
But this small patriot was a true chip of the Puritan mother- 
block, while when but a wee laddie of five he had been 
carried on his father’s shoulder to the Common thereto see 
the fireworks and illumination in honour of the repeal of the 
Stamp Act, and had shouted with infantile delight at the 
rockets and bee hives and wriggling, blazing serpents. 

Then, only three years before, in 1770, he and Winthrop 
had both been among the five hundred boys gathered be- 
neath the Liberty Tree to attend the funeral of their school- 
mate, young Christopher Snider, who was killed in a 
political riot and vaunted far and near as ''the first martyr 
to the noble cause,” and had followed the little hero of 
eleven summers to his last resting-place at Copp’s Hill, all 
of which had made a deep impression on their youthful minds. 
So, when Dame Lovering again pleaded " Do, Joey boy, 
do ! for I am all weak and shaky inside for a drop of the 
Chinese herb,” he answered kindly, but firmly, " No, granny, 
no. Please don’t ask me, for I can’t, I can’t. I can neither 
beg from a Tory, nor buy taxed tea in the public shops.” 

"Then it’s a hard-hearted, unnatural grandson you are ! ” 
screamed the old lady, turning pale with rage, "and you 


28 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


may give up all hopes of ever owning the watch, for I shall 
keep it and will it to your Cousin Digby.” 

“I can’t help it,” sighed Joe, sadly. “And I am just 
longing to please you, but I cannot go against my princi- 
ples.” 

It was, however, a right disconsolate urchin who crept up 
to bed at nine o’clock, and a few salt tears wet his pillow, 
although Mercy tip-toed into his tiny dormer chamber to 
whisper sympathisingly, “ I don’t see how you could hold 
out so, brother, but I think you were grand to do it.” 

Thursday, December i6th, was ushered in by clouds and 
a raw, easterly wind ; while, when the pupils of the Latin 
School were dismissed, a fine, drizzly rain was falling. 

“ Did you say. Win, that you were going over to Rox- 
bury, to see Fly and get your pup ?” enquired Joe, as he 
met Winthrop on the steps of the famous old seat of learn- 
ing in School Street. 

“Yes, I did mean to. But it’s so wet, guess I’ll wait for 
a pleasanter day.” 

“ You had better,” cried a third youth, who came run- 
ning up at the instant, “ for Harrison Otis says there is a 
big rumpus in the town and a crowd is hurrying down to 
Funnel Hall.* Let us go, too, and see what the fun’s 
about.” 

“ All right, Saltonstall ! We’re with you,” and the trio 
were quickly on their way to Faneuil Market, the great 
room above which witnessed such stirring scenes during the 
Revolution thus winning for itself the name of the “ Cradle 
of Liberty.” 

But as they came within sight of the many-windowed, 
high-towered building, they beheld a mass of men pouring 
from its doors. 


* A common name for Faneuil HalMn the olden time. 


X 


A CUP OF TEA. 


29 


What can that mean ? ” they asked in surprise. 

“ Only that old Funnel isn’t big enough to hold the 
maniacs,” sneered a bystander, ‘'and they are adjourning 
to the Old South.” 

“But what’s it all about, anyway?” exclaimed Edward 
Saltonstall. “Oh, there is John Rowe! He will tell us. 
Hello, John, what is every man’s tongue wagging so about ?” 

“ Tea,” replied the fellow shortly. Then pausing to 
shake the rain from his hat he explained, “ the folks want 
the tea-ships despatched back to England and a petition 
has been sent to Governor Hutchinson — who is out at his 
country place — requesting a pass, without which they can- 
not sail. Some think he may refuse to give it and all are 
waiting to see, while Quincy and Adams have been holding 
forth hot and heavy.” 

“ Even this drizzle cannot cool their ardour,” chuckled 
young Saltonstall. 

“ Not a bit of it. But its going to clear. The clouds 
are breaking and the wind has changed. Look at the Fun- 
nel grasshopper,” and Mr. Rowe pointed to the huge gilded 
insect which did duty as a weather-vane on top of the mar- 
ket’s tall tower. “ Why don’t you boys come with me to 
the meeting-house and see the sport ?” 

“ We will,” said Winthrop, and he led the party to the 
old brick church, where squeezing in they perched on the 
back of a pew near the door, and greedily drank in the re- 
bellious remarks floating around them. 

“You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him 
drink,” quoted one snuffy old chap. 

“ Aye,” responded his neighbour, “ and they can send us 
tea, but can’t make us drink.” 

“ Let them take it back to England and peddle it out 
there,” growled a third, “we will not have it forced down 
our throats.” 


30 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


“ What sort of a drink would tea and salt water make ? ” 
laughed John Rowe, and this suggestion called forth a 
round of applause, the words being repeated from mouth 
to mouth. 

Oh, ain’t I glad I didn’t buy the taxed stuff for 
granny,” whispered Joe to his friend and then, as this 
thought of home made him remember how long it was since 
school closed and noted how darkness was coming on apace, 
he exclaimed, “Win, do you suppose our mothers are 
worrying about us ? ” 

“ I am afraid they are,” said Winthrop. “ I don’t want to 
leave now, though, for see, John Hancock is getting up to 
speak and the Governor’s answer may come at any moment.” 

“Well, you wait here, then, and I will run home, set their 
minds at rest and be back.” And before the words were 
fairly out of his mouth, considerate Joe was pushing his 
way through the throng toward the door. On reaching the 
open, he found that John Rowe’s weather prediction had 
proved true. The rain was over, a yellow glow irradiated 
the western horizon and a pale, Avatery moon was emerging 
from the clouds overhead. “ I will take the short cut,” he 
thought, “ and be there in three shakes of a lamb’s tail.” 
And away he sped on a brisk run through the crooked 
streets of circuitous little Boston. 

But as he was dashing through an alley, the door of a 
carpenter’s shop suddenly opened and a man, stepping out, 
laid a detaining hand upon his shoulder. 

“See here, my fine fellow,” he cried, “just come in and 
lend us a helping hand, will you?” 

Joe thought he knew the voice, and peering through the 
fast gathering gloaming, recognised Thomas Melville, al- 
though he was in his shirt-sleeves and his face was roughly 
besmirched with paint. 

“Mr. Melville!” he ejaculated in astonishment. 


A CUP OF TEA, 


‘31 

** The same. And so, Joe, it is you ! Now that is first- 
rate ! But there is no time to lose, so please step in at 
once,” and Thomas ushered the boy into a dusky room, 
where was a score of men in various stages of dress and 
undress ; while as he entered a tallow dip was thrust into 
his hand and a stripling named Crane shouted, “ There my 
lad, hold the candle for us, while we rig for the big tea- 
party at Griffin’s Wharf !” 

Have they all gone stark, staring mad,” thought Joe, 
gazing around in bewilderment at those he knew to be 
some of the leading citizens of the town, but who were now 
engaged in bedaubing their usually sedate countenances with 
a reddish brown mixture, fitting on wigs of straight black 
hair, and covering their fine coats and ruffles with shabby 
blankets and other Indian-like attire ; while occasionally 
one would utter a blood-curdling war-whoop or execute a 
fiendish dance with burlesque ferocity. And, “What does 
it mean?” he finally managed to stammer. “What does 
this all mean ? ” 

“It means,” replied Thomas Melville, “that unless 
‘Stingy Tommy’ hears reason and gives the ships their 
pass, we are going to brew such a strong pot of tea as will 
make the tongues of King George and his men pucker as 
they never puckered before.” And it was he who led the 
masqueraders out into the darkness and down to the Old 
South Church, where the meeting was still in session. 

“Well, if this isn’t a pretty to-do!” ejaculated Joe, as he 
watched the last amateur Mohawk vanish through the door- 
way. “ And bless me 1 if I don’t have a finger in that pot 1 ” 
Saying which, he quickly besmeared his features with grease 
and lampblack, confiscated a wig that still lay on the floor, 
and, wrapping himself in a rug, was about to follow the In- 
dian band, when again the thought of his mother’s anxiety 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTIOH, 


3 « 

made him pause. But he only sighed a faint Oh, dear!'' 
as he pursued his way to Pudding Lane. 

Meanwhile, Winthrop and Edward Saltonstall are having 
an exciting time within the old Meeting-House. The Gov- 
ernors reply is long in coming, and the waiting crowd 
waxes very impatient, before a middle-aged man with 
strongly cut features and flashing blue eyes, throws aside 
his red cloak and cocked hat and rises on the platform to 
address them. All know this to be Samuel Adams, and in 
an instant every voice is hushed, every orb turned upon him. 

In a few concise words, he announces that his Excellency, 
the Governor, declines to permit the vessels to pass out, 
concluding with — “ And now, gentlemen, this meeting can 
do nothing more to save the country.” 

There is one moment of ominous silence, of keen disap- 
pointment. Then a ringing voice from the gallery shouts, 
“Boston Harbour a tea-pot to-night ! Hurrah for Griffin’s 
Wharf!” while at the signal, to the boys’ unbounded de- 
light, from all sides spring figures in the garb of Indian war- 
riors brandishing hatchets and hammers, and uttering the 
most ear-piercing whoops and shrieks. 

“ Oh, isn’t this monstrous sport ! ” squeal the youngsters, 
beating a tattoo with their heels upon the back of the pew. 
And as the “ Red Men ” go flying wildly out into the night 
and down Milk Street, shouting and cheering as they run ; 
Ed and Win, forgetting all about Joe, go capering joyously 
in their train. 


I 


CHAPTER V. 

THE BOYS HELP TO STIR THE POT. 

“ Just as glorious Sol was setting, 

On the wharf a numerous crew, 

Sons of Freedom, fear forgetting, 

Suddenly appear’d in view. 

Quick as thought the ships were boarded. 

Hatches burst and chests display’d. 

Axes, hammers, help afforded. 

What a crash that eve was made ! ” 

Rumours of a tumult in the town had reached Pudding 
Lane, and the long absence of Mr. Melville and Winthrop 
was commencing to cause great anxiety. Indeed, delicate 
Mistress Melville was quite prostrated with fear, and lay on 
her bed upstairs vainly trying to control her nervous tre- 
mours, while little Betty sat beside her, with a bottle of sal 
volatile, and whispered all the cheering words of comfort 
her small mind could suggest. 

Even Mehitable wore a worried expression, as she 
moved about the kitchen preparing the evening meal. She 
was just removing some fried mush from the fire, when a 
gruff voice at her elbow grunting — “ Please, white squaw, 
give poor Injun somethin’ to eat,” made her jump, and 
drop the pewter plato she held, sending its contents spin- 
ning across the floor. 

“ The Lord preserve us ! What’s that ?” she ejaculated, 
as turning, she encountered a grotesque figure and horribly 
bedaubed visage ; then beat a hasty retreat toward the pan- 
try, dabbing meanwhile at the intruder with a fork, and.vo- 


34 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

ciferating, “ Go ’way, go ’way ! You impudent critter you I 
How dare you come pokin’ your ugly mug in here ?” 

“Why, Mehitable, don’t you know me?” and a peal of 
merry laughter at once betrayed the identity of the fun lov- 
ing masquerader. 

“Joe Lovering! You owdacious young scalawag!” 
And now the irate woman made a dive for the roguish 
urchin. “ You deserve to be clapped into the Queen Street 
stocks for scarin’ a body in this fashion ! But dew tell ! 
What mischief are you up to now ? ” 

“Just the rarest bit of mischief that ever you heard of. 
But where is Betty ? I want to give her a turn.” 

“ You’ll do nothin’ of the kind. The poor, dear lamb is 
upstairs with her ma, who is near worritted out of her sweet 
life. And she so weak and narvy, too ! Some pesky fool 
ran by here, shoutin’ ‘ Great row in Milk Street’ ; and she’s 
a-frettin’ for fear the master has come to loofo^erheads with 
a ‘lobster’,* for neither he nor Win have we seen since 
mid-day ; and it nigh on to seven now ! ” 

“Well, I have seen them, and have come on purpose to 
tell you they are both as safe and sound as trivets, and will 
be home in due time.” 

“ Thank Heaven for that ! The dear missus will be so 
relieved,” sobbed good-hearted if sharp-tongued Mehitable. 
“ Guess I’ll hev to forgive your monkeyshines, Joe, since 
you fetch sech cheerful news. Is the Injun really hungry ? 
Well then, help yourself, to some of my fresh cookies.” 

“Thank you, Hitty;I will.” And the boy filled his 
pockets. “Win didn’t go -to Roxbury, after all, for we 
have been to a monstrous meeting in the Old South Church.” 

“ Hum ! Mighty pious all of a sudden ! What sort of a 
meetin’ ? A prayer meetin’ ? ” 


♦ A vulgar name of the period for a British soldier. 


THE BOYS HELP TO STIR THE POT. 


35 


“ Aye, the biggest prayer meeting on record, where every 
mothers son was praying for liberty. But I’m invited to a 
Tea-party and must be off or I’ll be too late. Good-bye.” 
And leaving Miss Sparhawk gaping in open-mouthed aston- 
ishment, this gay little “red-skin,” went scampering after 
the rest of the fantastic company, down to Griffin’s Wharf 
where the three Indiamen rested on the quiet water, their 
tall masts silhouetted against the dark December sky. 

But silvery moonlight irradiated their decks and made 
plainly visible the Mohawk band and another masquerading 
party, in red woolen caps and old frocks and gowns, busily 
en^ao^ed in hauling out the huge boxes of tea and tossing 
them over-board to where a squad of youths stood ankle- 
deep in mud, ready to smash the chests and send their con- 
tents to mingle with the briny water of the bay, while the 
captains and crews of the pillaged barks were, for the nonce, 
kept in durance vile below. 

Among the wading lads, Joe discerned Winthrop Melville 
and Ed Saltonstall, and shouting, “ Hip, hip, hooray! Isn’t 
this a prodigious lark 1 ” went scrambling up on board the 
Dartmouth and pitched into the melee which was led by one 
Lendal Pitts, a red-hot Whig. Zealously, too, he plied his 
axe as the cargo was lifted from the hold. 

“ My stars and green garters 1 Wouldn’t granny give 
the best of her three remaining teeth for some of this!” 
thought the boy, as he watched the piles and piles of fra- 
grant Chinese tea swept into the harbour. “ Suppose I slip 
a handful inside my waist-coat for her.” But almost in- 
stantly the idea was discarded as one unworthy of a true 
patriot and glad enough was he a little later, when a certain 
Captain O’Conner was actually caught confiscating some of 
the precious Bohea. For in a twinkling, this recreant was 
seized and made to disgorge, after which the tails of his coat 


36 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

were wrenched ofif and he sent about his business with a kick 
from every one he passed. 

“ I should die of shame if such a thing was done to me,” 
mused Joe. 

So the work went merrily on until three hundred and 
forty-two chests of tea had been given to the mermaids ; 
while, when the sun rose, a great winrow of the herb ex- 
tended almost down to Castle William, where a regi- 
ment of British soldiers was garrisoned on an island near 
the entrance of the harbour. An aggravating sight for them, 
truly, and one that for several days turned many old ladies, 
of Granny Lovering’s kidney, green and heart-sick with envy. 

But the Curfew bell summoned home a most jubilant and 
triumphant company as, shouldering their hatchets and tom- 
ahawks, they gayly kept time to the squeaky fifes and 
marched up from the wharf to what is now the termination 
of Pearl Street. And Joe trotted with them the blithest 
little Mohawk there. 

As they approached the residence of the Admiral, who 
commanded the fleet of English war-ships anchored just 
without the town, a window was suddenly flung up and a 
head thrust out, while a voice cried : 

“ Well, boys, you have had a fine, pleasant evening for 
your Indian caper, haven’t you ? But mind, you’ve got to 
pay the fiddler yet.” 

“ It’s Mad Montague,” passed from mouth to mouth, and 
Pitts shouted back — 

“Oh, never mind. Squire. Just come out here, if you 
please, and we’ll settle the bill in two minutes.” 

Down banged the sash, while with a laugh and loud 
flourish from the fifes on went the Tea-party to the place 
of dispersion, and there were no more excited youngsters in 
the Province than Joe and Win, when they dashed liome to 
report the grand doings of that December night. 


THE BOYS HELP TO STIR THE POT. 


37 


Only I wish I could have been an Indian, too,’’ said 
Winthrop as he examined and admired his friend’s outland- 
ish costume. 

But Dame Lovering was more incensed than ever against 
her grandson ; reproached him for not bringing her some of 
the spoils and groaned dismally over “ the waste of such fine 
stuff — the sinful waste of the rare fine stuff.” 

Of course next morning, half Boston turned out to see 
the mighty ridge of tea in the harbour and cheer the men 
who went out in the small boats to stir it up in the “pot.” 
Among the spectators were Betty and Mercy, as well 
as Miss Dorothy Quincy and Mr. John Hancock. But 
Alida Coffin was not there. 

Joe and Winthrop escorted the girls down and were very 
full of their own feats of prowess on the previous night. 

“You ought just to have seen Captain O’Connor scuttle 
off, with every one hooting at his heels,” said Joe. “ I gave 
him a mighty good kick when he passed me.” 

“ But didn’t you sort of want to take a little bit yourself ?” 
asked Betty. “ Just enough for one cup, so you could get 
your grandfather’s watch ? ” 

And the lad had to confess to that longing. 

“ But I didn’t do it,” he added. 

“ I don’t believe I could have resisted the temptation, if I 
had been in your shoes,” declared Winthrop. “As it was, 
I was only thinking of outwitting old Governor Hutch.” 

“ Hutchinson, Win,” corrected his little sister. “ It is not 
mannerly to speak so.” 

“I don’t care. Everybody dubs him ‘Stingy Tommy’ 
and he is a coward as well, for when he heard of the uproar 
over his answer, they say, he dropped the razor with which 
he was scraping his chin and made off across fields with 
only one side of his face shaved.” 

But their laughter over this impudent report was presently 


38 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTIOH, 


interrupted by a slow voice drawling — “Wal, naow, young- 
uns, ain’t this a nice kettle of fish — tea I mean ?” and turn- 
ing beheld Fliakim Sparkhawk sauntering toward them, 
while from beneath his arm peeped a pair of bright little 
eyes, set in a mass of shaggy, black hair. “ I swan I never 
see nothin’ like it afore.” 

“ Guess you haven’t,” chuckled Joe. “ Nor King George 
either.” 

“ Oh, never mind King George,” screamed Win, for 
look ! He has brought my dog ! Haven’t you, Fly ? ” 

“Yes, this is the critter an’ he’s a thoroughbred, he is.” 
Saying which the countryman set the fat, fluffy puppy down 
on the wharf where it went clumsily tumbling about on its 
short little legs. 

“ Oh, what a darling ! ” exclaimed Mercy. 

“Just like a tiny baby bear,” cried Betty, going down on 
her knees to hug the helpless little animal. “ And its hair 
is softer than the fur on my Sunday cloak.” She fairly 
shrieked, too, with delight when it licked her hand with a 
moist, red tongue. 

“ Fd hev fetched him afore ef I hedn’t been so powerf’l 
busy,” explained Fliakim. 

What have you been doing ?” enquired curious little 
Mercy. 

“ Oh, mendin’ a couple o’ clocks, an’ trappin’ rabbits, an’ 
settin’ daown to the tavern, a settlin’ the affairs of the Nation. 
Wonderful haow much time runs away when you air smokin’ 
an’ talkin’ over things.” 

Meanwhile Win was dancing round in ecstacy over his 
new pet, and now nothing would do, but they must hasten 
back to Pudding Lane to display it to his mother. On the 
way its name was a subject of discussion. 

“I called him 1 oddles,” said Fly, “but you needn’t feel 
obleeged to stick to that” 


THE BO YE HELP TO STIR THE POT, 


39 


“Since you got him to-day, how would Tea-pot do?” 
laughed Joe, while Mercy suggested “ Bruin.” 

But when Mrs. Melville saw the pretty, pudgy, creature 
she said : “ He has such a dear, honest, little face, I think. 
Win, I would name him True.” 

And so the small Newfoundland was christened True and 
time proved that he was well worthy of his cognomen, while 
he quickly became a prime favourite with all the household, 
except Mehitable, who declared she “ never could abide cats 
and dogs.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


A PROVINCIAL CHRISTMAS. 

“ Only one stately ancient dame 
Thrills at the sound of the royal name. 

But loath to frighten a sunny head 
The Lady feasts them with gingerbread. 
****** 

Spicy and toothsome, crisp and brown, 

Cut in the shape of a kingly crown.” 

Margaret E. Sangster. 

The modest place of learning in which Betty’s and Mercy’s 
young ideas were taught to shoot was a typical dame’s 
school, presided over by a worthy spinster generally known 
as Marm Titcomb. A staunch Puritan was she and up- 
holder of the Cambridge Platform, who drilled her pupils in 
the Westminster Catechism as thoroughly as in the multi- 
plication table and put them religiously through the P^Hmer 
from a — b, ab to “ Lessons and Maxims for Children,” this 
being the initial step up the eighteenth century’s ladder of 
knowledge. There were few, too, of her pupils who, in 
after life, did not always connect the letters of the alphabet 
with certain miserable little woodcuts and rhymes which 
embellished that thin pictorial volume with blue cover and 
leather binding. 

For instance, A, invariably recalled the fact that — 

“ In Adam’s fall 
We sinned all.” 

As well as a droll illustration of our first parents clutch 


A PROyiA^CiAL CHRISTMAS: 


41 


ing an apple, while they paused to hearken to the siren 
whisper of a rather meek serpent wound about a tree. In 
the same manner, also, capital O summoned before the mind’s 
eye a wooden trio, two of whom wore crowns and carried 
sceptres, and this triplet — 

“ Young Obadias, 

David, Josias, 

All were pious.” 

But it was in her rewards and punishments that Marm 
Titcomb displayed her chief cleverness and originality. 
The most deserving child was allowed to wear for one week, 
a round silver medal, marked “ Best Scholar,” while each 
Saturday before they were dismissed at noon, for their half 
holiday, gay knots of ribbon, pink, green, blue and yellow 
were pinned on the shoulders of those who had been punctual, 
industrious and amenable, while a black bow marked any 
that might be unusually bad. These badges were sported 
over Sunday and returned on Monday. 

Her most usual mode of correction was a sharp rap on 
the head with her steel thimble, or the fastening of a small 
culprit to the cushion of her chair, but in her table drawer, 
the dame kept a pair of ear pincers which, on occasions, 
were caught onto the lobes of some whispering urchin’s ears, 
while he was mounted on a stool, there to stand the 
observed of all observers,” and generally shedding quarts 
of tears during the ordeal. 

Girls who told fibs had mustard put on their tongues, or 
their mouths scoured out with soap and sand, and when 
Sally Bean helped herself to a vial of boxberry cordial 
belonging to another child, her fingers were held over red 
hot coals until they smarted well. 

Betty was extremely proud whenever she succeeded in 
winning the silver medal and she had retained it for a fort- 
night when, on the Saturday of the week following the 


44 A LITTLE Daughter of the revolution 

famous Tea-party, she and Mercy started for school with 
heavy woolen socks pulled over their dainty stockings and 
shoes, for there had been a fall of snow and the walking 
was bad, although the world was shining very white and 
clean in the winter sunshine. 

“ But I expect I will have to give up the medal to-day,” 
she sighed. “ Lottie Spring went above me in the spelling 
class yesterday and she has not missed this week.” 

But on reaching the school they found Lottie was not 
there. Neither were a number of the other scholars, indeed 
only a scant dozen gathered about Marm Titcomb after the 
opening prayer. 

“ Why is it, I wonder,” remarked Mercy. 

“ Probably because this is the 25th of December,” said 
the teacher shortly and looking grim. “ The day some 
folks call Christmas. The Springs are Whigs and so are 
the Beans, but they are Church of England people, too, 
while even some of our own good meeting-house members 
can’t altogether forget the Papistical nonsense they learned 
in their youth. No one knows, for sure, that the Lord was 
born at this time and if he was, that is no reason for stuffing 
and junketting. Now, children come to order! Stand up 
in line and repeat your Catechise,'^ and at once ensued a 
hustling and scuffling, as the youngsters endeavoured to toe 
a crack in the floor. 

But the morning session was a short one and by half past 
eleven all the lessons were said. “ Betty, you shall keep the 
medal,” announced Marm Titcomb. “ And since you are 
all to be let out an half an hour earlier than usual, I am going 
to ask you and Mercy to take a note for me up to my sister 
who lives just beyond the King’s Chapel. Will you, 
dearies?” “ Aye, willingly,” responded the little girls and 
they were soon on their way to Tremont Street, or Tre- 
amount, as it was pronounced in those days. 


A PROVINCIAL CHRISTMAS. 


43 


They had accomplished their errand and were returning 
home when, as they were passing the massive stone build- 
ing supported by Corinthian pillars and with a square bell- 
tower above, which was known as King’s Chapel, they 
observed that the door stood open and many fine hackney 
coaches and chariots, with liveried black footmen, were 
drawn up in front. 

“ Hark, Mercy ! ” cried Betty. “They are singing inside. 
How funny ! Can they be having meeting on a week day ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” replied her companion. “ Maybe it is a 
wedding.” 

But as a peal sounded from the mighty organ within and 
a clear soprano voice commenced singing, the Adestes 
Fidelis, she caught Betty’s hand and dragged her toward 
the portal. “ Let us peep in,” she whispered. 

And, standing like two little “ Peris at the gate of Heaven,” 
these small Puritans, accustomed only to severely plain 
churches, gazed with wondering, almost awe-stricken eyes at 
the royalist’s beautiful place of worship which, however, 
would not be considered particularly fine in these more 
ornate times. Truly imposing, though, to them appeared 
the surpliced clergyman in the now evergreen-decked chan- 
cel ; the proud armourial badges hung around on all sides, 
and the massive prayer-book, bearing the royal monogram 
G. R., as well as the great canopied and draped pew set 
aside for the Governor; and the patrician congregation in 
powdered wigs, costly laces and the richest of satins and 
velvets, with here and there a scarlet coat, glowing like a 
bed of bright flowers against the cold, grey walls. 

“ O come all ye faithful. 

Joyful and triumphant, 

O come ye, O come ye, to Bethlehem ! ” 

Sang the lovely voice overhead, and impressionable Betty, 


44 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


clasping her hands murmured “ O Mercy, it is like Heaven ! ” 
While, when the full choir burst forth with, — 

“ O come, let us adore Him, 

O come let us adore Him, 

O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord ! ” 

She almost sobbed aloud in the intensity of her emotion. 

But before they knew it, the singing was over, the benedic- 
tion pronounced, and the aristocrats came rustling down the 
aisle and out to their waiting equipages. Our tiny maids 
shrank into a corner to watch them pass and were dismayed 
enough when a gay voice suddenly exclaimed : “ Bless my 
heart, if here aren’t Dorothy Quincy’s pretty little rebels !” 
and Alida Coffin, very blithe and brave in her modish 
finery, swooped down upon them. “ A Merry Christmas, 
sweet ones ! And now I mean to carry you off to see my 
grandmother and have you taste her famous holiday ginger- 
bread.” 

“ Oh, no,” cried Mercy drawing back, “ we are only in 
our old school clothes,” glancing down as she spoke at her 
cloak and gown of grey homespun, and painfully conscious 
of Joe’s coarse woolen socks which covered her feet. 

“ That does not signify, — does not signify whatever, and I 
insist. So come along at once — ” and before the children 
could make any further remonstrance they were whisked 
out onto the pavement, a tall footman had lifted them into 
a fine silk-lined chariot and they were whirling down 
Tremont Street at a spanking pace. For a time, however, 
they were too abashed to open their lips and Miss Coffin 
had to do all the talking. 

But when presented to Madam Davenant, they immedi- 
ately lost their hearts to the stately old lady with the sweet, 
gentle face, framed in soft iron-grey curls, which peeped 
out from a cap of sheerest lawn, matching the dainty lace- 
trimmed kerchief upon her neck. She received them most 


A FROVINC/AL CHRISTMAS. 


45 


cordially, and with her own white hands, sparkling with 
gems, removed their outside wrappings. 

“ For I always love to have children come to see me on 
Christmas Day,” she said. 

“ Please, madam, what is Christmas ? ” Mercy finally 
ventured to enquire. “ And why did Miss Alida go to 
church to-day ? ” 

“ Bless me, child ! Have you never been told that ! 
Lidy, do you hear ? This is Mary Lovering’s granddaugh- 
ter and she doesn’t know that to-day is Christ’s birthday.” 

“Well, grandma, there is nothing remarkable in that. 
Even the Quincys and Hancocks scarce regard the day and 
stricter dissenters frown upon all Christmas observances and 
merry-making as Popish and a device of the Evil One.” 

“ Poor little heathen ! But they shall no longer be left 
in ignorance ; ” and drawing the little girls to her knee, 
Madam Davenant proceeded to repeat the^old, old story of 
the Christ Child and the Herald Star that announced His 
nativity. Of course they had heard it before in Scriptural 
language, read from the great Bible, but it had been scarce 
comprehended and made no more impression than the 
Indian tales of the early colonists, told beside the winter 
fire and, like them, seemed very vague and far away. 

“And is it because the dear Baby came on the 25th of 
December, that you put the sweet smelling greens in the 
church and sing that pretty hymn?” asked Betty. “Just 
as my mother made me a currant loaf last June, when I 
was seven ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Alida. “ That hymn was a Christmas Carol. 
We give Christmas gifts, also; and I have a little present 
for each of you.” And from a curiously carved Chinese 
box, she produced two strings of blue beads and fastened 
them about their throats. 

Then Madam Davenant rang for cake and wine and the 


46 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

most delightful rounds of gilded gingerbread were brought, 
each one stamped with a kingly crown. 

“ For I am a Royalist, my dears, to my back bone,” she 
explained proudly. Then, lifting her glass of wine to her 
lips, she said, almost reverently — “ Here’s to his most gra- 
cious majesty. King George ! ” 

“ Sip the toast, darlings, for the most rebellious Whig 
could derive no harm from drinking the health of so good 
a man ; — though alas ! A sad shadow is hanging over his 
blessed head ! Have you ever heard how kind he is to 
the poor and how once he went into an old woman’s cot- 
tage, during her absence, and turned the spit on which a 
piece of meat was roasting ? When the dame returned, 
her dinner was well cooked and there was a royal note, 
enclosing ‘five guineas to buy a jack.’ ” 

“ Oh, I like that !” exclaimed Betty and both girls liked 
the sweet cordial and savoury gingerbread, while, when 
they trudged home through the snow, they carried away, 
from their visit to the loyal old lady, some new and 
happier ideas than they had ever had before concerning the 
King of England and the King of Heaven. 

As Betty entered her own door, Winthrop came dancing 
to meet her, shaking something in a glass bottle. 

“ Look at that,” he cried. “ Smell it. What is it ?” 

“ Why, it’s tea,” gasped Betty, in astonishment. “ But 
where in the world did you get it ? ” 

“ You’ll never guess,” replied her brother. “ But you 
heard father tell me this morning to clean the shoes he 
wore the other night at Griffin’s Wharf. Well, they were 
covered with mud and I started in at them as soon as I 
came from school. When I put my hand in one, I felt 
something in the toe and heel and lo, and behold ! there 
was nearly half a pound of Bohea, while the other had just 
as much, It must have slipped in without his knowledge 


^ PROyiNCIAL CHRISTMAS, 


47 




\ 


while he was at work on the ships. * * Daddy says he came 
home so tired out, that he just kicked off his boots and 
tumbled into bed ; and he has not worn this pair since. 
Mother put the tea up in this bottle to save as a memento 
of the big Tea-party.” 

“Well, now, if that isn’t funny! But oh, I wonder if I 
couldn’t have a little!” and running to her mother, Betty 
whispered something in her ear. Mrs. Melville smiled and 
nodded assent, and in her rapture the excitable lass went 
whirling over the sanded floor, “making pot-cheeses” as it 
was termed, and shouting, “ It will be a Christmas gift ! A 
rare, fine Christmas gift !” 

“ Pray where did you ever hear aught about Christmas 
gifts ?” demanded Mehitable, pausing abruptly, dish-cloth in 
hand. 

“ Miss AYida. Coffin told me, and she gave me one, too,” 
and the little maid joyously displayed her neck-beads, and 
described her unexpected visit at the Davenant mansion. 

“ Seem’s to me that young lady might be in better busi- 
ness than stuffin’ your head with such folderol ! ” stormed 
Miss Sparhawk, all her Puritanism on the qui vive in an in- 
stant. “ Singin’ highty tighty airs, stickin’ green twigs 
round the house, and turnin’ a week day into a Sabbath 
’cause it’s the Lord’s birthday, won’t do them folks any 
good unless they’re foreordained to be saved, which I doubt 
if many of them ’Piscopals air. You will be a sight wiser, 
Betty Melville, if you keep to the good old psalm tunes 
and make your election sure.” 

But the mistress interfered. “ Hush, Hitty,” she said, 
“ the child’s words take me back to a very happy year I 
once spent with my Aunt Dalrymple, who was a strict 


* It is a fact that one Thomas Melville 

• party, which was carefully preserved. 


found tea in his shoes after the famous Tea- 


48 


A LITTLE daughter OF THE REVOLUTION 


Church of Engrland woman. Her creed was a gentler one 
than ours and a brio^hter. Sometimes I am half inclined to 
wish that my sensitive little Betty might expand in a milder 
moral atmosphere than that of our New England Calvinism ; 
that she need never struggle as I have struggled with the 
depressing theories of foreordination and predestination.” 

“The heart of man — and still more of a mother — is de- 
ceitful above all things and desperately wicked,” quoth Me- 
hitable grimly, as she returned to her dish washing ; while 
Mistress Melville sighed and took from the book-shelf a 
sombre and well-worn volume, entitled “Sermons on Elec- 
tion.” 

But Betty, quite regardless of this serious conversation, 
was bustline about, haneine the kettle on the crane and 

o o 

measuring out a small portion of the precious tea from the 
glass bottle. 

Joe Lovering sat in the “lean-to” wood shed turning 
out his pockets and spreading the miscellaneous collection 
on a bench before him. There was a jack-knife, three half 
whittled boats, a piece of stick, a mouse-trap, a bit of 
mouldy cheese, sundry balls of string, some bird shot, five 
iron nails, a tin label, and a lump of taffy. These the boy 
surveyed with disgust. 

“’Most everything ’cept money,” he soliloquised, “and I 
hav’n’t a ha’penny to bless myself with. I am afraid, too, 
there is no hope of my usual guinea from granny at the New 
Year, now she is so tea-mad with me. Well, I believe I did 
the right thing, anyway.” 

At that moment a figure flitted by the window, and 
Betty’s rosy, excited little face appeared in the doorway. 
She carried carefully a neatly covered tray, on which were 
arranged a plate of sweet buns and a cup of some smoking 
beverage. 

“ Look, Joe, look ! ” she exclaimed, “here is a cup of real 



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A FRO^IXC/AL C/IRISTMAS, 


49 


jj" China tea that is neither taxed nor smuggled. It is for you 
to give to your grandmother for a Christmas gift, and who 
knows but it may win you the silver watch, for there is 
A more of the herb where this came from.” 

\ “ But how — where?” began the lad, jumping up. 

’i “ Never mind now. Run along, and take it to her while 
.f it is hot. Then come back, and 1 will tell you all,” And, 
nothing loath, the youth hastened to obey. 

Oh, the joy of old Dame Lovering when the “cup that 
I j cheers” was set before her and she learned that there was 
r more to follow, for Mrs. Melville had divided the “find” 
. \\dth her neighbour. She laughed, she cried, and as she 
j| drained the last drop, ejaculated : “ It warms the very cockles 
of my heart, and is better than the Christmas wassail bowl 
! . we use to have when I was a girl in merrie England.” 

And when that night Joe sat down to supper he dis- 
: I covered beside his plate the long-coveted silver “ turnip ” of 
! I his grandfather. Then was there no such uproariously 
Y blissful boy in all Boston, — really having to turn a somer- 
1 T sault as a vent for his feelings — while the instant tea was 
I over he went flying next door, screaming, “Three cheers 
: for Betty Melville ! Three cheers for granny and the big 
, , Tea-party ! for I’ve got the watch — a real silver watch ! and, 
oh, won’t the boys stare ! ” 

I y And so they did, when next day — which w^ Sunday — 

I Joe marched into meeting with the watch-fob conspicuously 
displayed, and felt obliged to time the parson’s sermon at 
least once in three minutes. 

Meanwhile, Mistress Melville securely sealed up the re- 
W mainder of the now historic Bohea found in her good man’s 
^ shoes, and it was handed down as a precious heirloom in 
the family. Indeed, one hundred years later, at the cen- 
tennial celebration of the Griflln’s Wharf fracas, in Faneuil 


50 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

Hall, on December t 6, 1873, it was exhibited as one of the 
most interesting relics there. 

But that was long, long after that Christmas evening 
when, as winsome little Betty kissed “ good-night,” she 
threw her arms around her mother’s neck and whispered 
shyly, “ Marmee, dear, Hitty doesn’t know how nice the 
’Piscopals are, and I think the Baby in the manger would 
like us to keep His birthday, too.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


FLIAKIM HAS SOME SPORT. 


“ When a certain great King, whose initial is G, 

Forces stamps upon paper and folks to drink tea, 

When these folks burn his tea and stampt paper like stubble, 

You- may guess that this King is then coming to trouble.” 

Philip Freneau. 

The grand overthrow of choice Hyson and Congo, which 
brought such happiness to loyal little Joe was, however, 
the beginning of trouble and consternation throughout the 
town. When a report of the affair reached England, 
George III. and his counsellors were wroth enough. I'hey 
passed an act of Parliament, closing the port of Boston ; so 
provisions soon ran low, and business came almost to a 
standstill. The King also sent for General Gage, a valiant 
warrior who had been out here fighting with Washington 
and Putnam, but had lately returned to the mother country, 
and asked him, — “ What about those rebellious Boston- 
ians ? ” 

“Oh, your Majesty,” replied the General, “ they will be 
lions while we are lambs, but if we take the resolute part, 
they will undoubtedly prove very meek.” 

“And how many of my soldiers will be necessary to bring 
them to their senses?” demanded the Sovereign. 

“ Four regiments will be more than sufficient,” declared 
the military man, who ought to have known better. 

“Very good, sir. I mean to send you there.” 

“ I shall be ready at a day s notice,” answered General 


52 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


Gage, with a low bow and a smile, — although I think his 
heart must have sunk like lead under his gold embroidered 
uniform. 

“ But I am glad it is Gage who is coming,” remarked 
Thomas Melville, when he read the news some time after, 
in his weekly paper, the Boston Chronicle, “ for he has an 
American wife and is half an American himself.” And 
truly the new Military Governor was as generous an enemy 
as he could be, — too generous for his own good. For he 
brought upon himself the reproach of Great Britain — was 
declared “too amiable;” dubbed by the army “Tommy” 
and “The Old Woman”; and eventually lost his command, 
in consequence. 

This all occurred in the Spring following the events -in 
the previous chapters, and one bright June day, shortly 
after Betty’s eighth birthday, as Marm Titcomb’s scholars, 
and the boys from the Latin School, were returning home 
at noon, a crash of martial music — the roll of drums and 
blast of bugles — suddenly fell upon their ears, from the di- 
rection of Queen Street, and, forgetful of their cooling din- 
ners, away they all sped helter-skelter, to see what it might 
mean. And certainly a dazzling sight awaited them ! A 
thousand fine, stalwart Englishmen, marching as one man, 
brilliant as tulips in their scarlet coats, gold lace and rufifies, 
with banners flying and bayonets glittering. Noble sol- 
diers, most of them, the sons of the heroes of Crecy and 
Agincourt and Quebec, who had crossed the seas and come 
three thousand miles, to put down the American rebellion. 

All laughed and mocked at the fantastically dressed 
negro drummer-boys, and called them “ riggish monkeys ; ” 
but the grenadiers in their bearskins could not but com- 
mand respect and admiration. This company, the very 
flower of chivalry, displayed his Majesty’s crest and cipher 
upon the front of their caps ; it shone from their standard 


FLIAKIM HAS SOME SPORT. 


53 


and sparkled on their drums. They wore his Majesty’s 
livery. They were the “ King’s Own.” 

“ What regiment is that ? By St. George, it is a right 
royal one indeed!” exclaimed John Lovell, the Master of 
the Latin School, who had followed his pupils, to watch 
the troops come in. 

'‘That’s the King’s Own Regiment,” replied a bystander. 

“Wa’al,” drawled Fliakim Sparhawk, who was in the 
throng. “ They air trim-lookin’ lads to be sure, but an 
ounce of lead would settle ’em, jest as quick as another 
man. I’m thinkin’.” 

“ Right you are. Fly,” cried Winthrop. “ But see the lion 
on their ensign, how fat and sleek he looks.” 

“Aye, a pampered beast — needs blood-letting,” put in 
John Rowe, who had pushed his way in behind the boys. 

“ Curse them I I wish the earth would open and swal- 
low every mother’s son,” growled Lendal Pitts. 

But earthquakes are not made to order, and before night, 
a little village of white tents had sprung up on the green 
Common ; fagot fires were blazing ; sentries pacing slowly 
up and down, and General Gage was sipping his Madeira 
in the stately old Province House, which stood almost op- 
posite the South Church, where the “ tempest in a tea-pot ” 
had been hatched. 

In fact, independent little Boston was under military 
control. 

Meanwhile, many an indignant citizen went home to 
polish up his old firelock, and melt his pewter plates to 
run into bullets. 

“Does it mean war?” asked Mistress Melville, turning 
pale. 

“ I trust not, dear,” replied her husband. “ But it means 
hard times and scant commons for all of us and, I fear, 
many a broil in our peaceful streets.” 


54 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


The last did, indeed, too often happen that Summer, be- | 
twixt the soldiers and the townsfolk, — but the young Brit- ; 
ish officers, especially those of the 5th regiment, commanded \ 
by Lord Percy — an earl and scion of a noble house, — had a ( 
fine time with the pretty Yankee girls, and jMercy and 3 
Betty often saw Miss Dorothy Quincy, — as well as Alida j 
Coffin, — riding on horseback with a “ red coat ” ; out ' 
toward Merry Mount, or Middlesex Fells. 

The town had a wonderful fascination for Fliakim Spar- 
hawk in these days, and he delighted to hang about the 
gay camp. But one evening, he stumbled into the Mel- 
ville’s livinof-room, holdinof his sides and shakinof with 
laughter. 

“ What on earth ails ye. Fly ? ” demanded Mehitable. 

‘‘Jest the comicalest thing that ever I see,” he gasped, 
dropping limply into a seat. “ I swan them imported ‘ lob- 
sters ’ ain’t so spunky as they look.” 

“ Why do you think so ? ” asked Winthrop, who at that 
moment entered with his father, and True trotting behind | 
him, — while the dog flew to give his first master a vocifer- f 
ous welcome. 4 

“ I declare the beast remembers me, don’t he ?” ejaculated . 
Fliakim, as the affectionate creature insisted upon licking f. 
his face and hands, meanwhile giving vent to sharp little I. 
staccato yelps of joy. “ He grows like a weed, tew! But 
I must tell ye abaout them Britishers. Jest naow, as I was 
crossin’ Beacon Hill, I run agin a party o’ red coats out for 
a stroll. They were admirin’ the sunset, so I stared at ’em 
piirty hard, an’ was th inkin’ what a nice, brave-lookin’ set ’o 
chaps they were, when all to once, somethin’ whizzed by S ' 
our heads, — then another, an’ another, till the hull air 
seemed to be full of buzzers. I knowed ’t warn’t nothin’ 
but dor-beetles, the stupidest an’ abaout the most innocent 
insects the Lord ever made ! But I vow, them soldiers 


/'LIAAT/M HAS some SFORT, 


55 


were that scared, they took to their heels an’ scuttled 
daown the hill, an’ into the camp, as though hobgoblins 
were after ’em. There, too, they told a prodigious big 
story abaout hevin’ been shot at by Yankee air-guns. Ha ! 
ha ! ha ! ” and again Fliakim almost rolled off his chair 
with merriment, while all his listeners joined in. 

“ They didn’t know a musketoe from a musketeer,” 
laughed Mr. Melville. 

Another day, somewhat later in the season, a quartet of 
school-boys, Joe Lovering, Winthrop Melville, Ed Salton- 
stall and Harrison Otis, went to sail a fleet of small boats 
they had manufactured, in the Frog Pond at one end of the 
Common. This was somewhat without the encampment, 
but they found a large target had been set up near their 
play-place and a regiment was being drilled and exercised in 
firing at it. 

“They’re not such monstrous good shots are they?” 
criticised little Otis. 

“No,” said Joe, “and yonder comes Fly Sparhawk. I 
bet he could beat them all hollow.” 

Evidently Fliakim was of the same opinion, for when he 
had stood a few minutes, watching man after man fire with- 
out hitting the mark he burst out in a loud and irritating, 
“Haw! haw! haw!” 

This incensed the soldiers and the officer in command 
turning upon him, fiercely demanded, “ What are you laugh- 
ing at, sirrah ? ” 

“’Fraid you’ll be mad ef I tell, gineral,” stammered Fly. 

“ No,” he was assured, “ speak out.” 

“ Wa’al then, cunnel, I laugh to see ’em fire at that ere 
thing so blamed awkward. Why, I’ll be baound I kin hit 
that mark ten times runnin’.” 

“ So you can,” chorused the boys drawing nearer to see 
the fun. 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTIOH, 


S6 


“Ah! will you? ’’said the officer, “We shall soon see. 
Here, corporal, bring* five of the best guns and load them 
for this honest man.” 

“Oh, you needn’t trouble to fetch so many, major,” 
drawled Fliakim, “ Haw 1 haw ! Gi’ me the fust one that’s 
handy. But if it’s all the same to yew, capting, I choose to 
load it myself.” 

This, then, he proceeded to do, deftly but leisurely, and 
when satisfied, enquired : “ Whar shall I shoot ? ” 

“ To the right.” 

Bang 1 And the ball pierced the target one inch to the 
right of the bullseye. 

“Just a chance shot,” sneered the Englishman. 

The countryman chuckled and took aim again. 

“Whar shall I fire naow?” 

“ To the left.” And the leaden pellet cleaved the exact 
spot. 

“ Come, try once more,” urged the officer. 

“ Whar naow ? ” 

“In the centre.” 

And straight as a bird to her nest flew the third bullet ; 
hitting the bullseye plumb in the middle, while an exultant 
shout went up from the lads by the F'rog Pond. 

The soldiers stood wondering and aghast, and one mut- 
tered, “ Lucky for us, he was shooting at a target and not 
at men.” 

“ Aye,” responded a comrade, “ and I hope to goodness, 
all the Yanks are not so expert with their fire arms.” 

Fliakim, however, took his triumph very quietly, though 
as he returned the gun he remarked in his slow way : 

“Why, sargunt, when I was only a little shaver, knee 
high to a grass-hopper, I could toss up an apple and shoot 
out the seeds as it came daown.” 

When, too, he walked away with his young admiring 


FLIAKIM HAS SOME SPORT, 


57 


friends, he confessed to them that that was the proudest 
day of his life. 

“Jest wish Hitty could a ben thar to see haow beat that 
king-pin lobster did look ! Mebbe she’d respect this Fly 
more than she doos.” 

“ But,” he addedj “ I reckon I do know shootin’ better’n 
most anything! It’s a talent. I’m thinkin’, that in these 
troublous times shouldn’t be hid under a bushel. So I 
swan, if we ever do come to an out an’ out coil with Old 
England, I’m a-goin’ to shoulder my fowlin’ piece an’ powder 
horn an’ pitch in with the rest.” 

And, as he crossed the “ Neck,” a strip of land between 
the Charles and Mystic rivers which led to Roxbury, he 
whistled the patriotic airs of the day, as clearly and sweetly 
as a bluebird trills at the approach of Spring. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


“ RED COATS.” 


“ New trouble brews in Boston,” 

Was told us half the year, 

Yet every week the postman came 
With something new to fear. 

“ Our freedom,” so they wrote us, 

“ Such progress here begets, 

That England seeks to check it, 

With swords and bayonets.” 

G. L. Raymond. 

The Fall and Winter of 1774-5. proved harder than the 
Summer to the patriotic Bostonians and there was little 
Thankspriving feasting that year. 

“ It don’t seem like Thanksgiving without a turkey,” 
grumbled Winthrop and Betty, as they surveyed the roast 
goose and one small pumpkin pie, which now graced the 
Harvest Home board. 

“We are fortunate to have a fowl of any sort,” reproved 
their father, “and you children should not complain, since 
your mother so cheerfully wears homespun and gives up all 
luxuries for the good of the cause,” and he cast a loving 
elance at his wife. But the words ended in a sieh, as he 
remarked that she was certainly more pale and fragile than 
the year before, while a racking cough now often shook 
her delicate frame. 

But the British officers made merry enough and lived 
sumptously. There were plenty of country people ready 
to exchange their poultry, eggs, butter and fresh vegetables 


RED coats: 


59 


for English gold and English ships frequently brought tur- 
tles, pineapples, wine and many another delicacy. So there 
was festal dining and drinking within the camp, and Doro- 
thy Quincy, Alida Coffin and a host of Whig and Tory 
belles, threw politics to the winds, and enjoyed their share 
of dancing and flirting at the brilliant levees in the Province 
House, at the band concerts and officers’ balls, while Fan- 
euil Hall — to the scandal of the more sedate portion of the 
community — was turned into a theatre for amateur perform- 
ances. Indeed, General Burgoyne wrote a play expressly 
for the would-be-theatrical stars, in which he took off the 
Yankees in order to raise a Royal laugh. 

For a time, too, even John Hancock, as well as other young 
patriots, mingled somewhat with the lively throng of society 
folk ; for, being Colonel of a Cadet Company which served 
as guard to the Provincial Governors, he was to a certain 
extent, thrown in with General Gage and his suz^e. 

But one day, when Mercy and Betty were again spend- 
ing a happy afternoon with Miss Quincy — a pleasure that 
now only came at long intervals, although the young lady 
did not entirely forget her little Pudding Lane friends, — 
Alida Coffin came fluttering in for a chat and cup of coffee, 
and was evidently bursting with a piece of news. 

“ Have you heard what has happened ?” she exclaimed, 
“ General Gage has dismissed John Hancock, and his whole 
company are so indignant they have disbanded and sent 
their colours to the Governor, declaring they will no longer 
be foot-guards of his.” 

‘‘Then, they did just right,” cried Miss Dorothy, flush- 
ing. ‘‘But poor John! How will he feel? He was so 
proud of that crack company of his.” 

“ Then he ought not to go round with Sam Adams, stir- 
ring up mare’s nests and I would waste no sympathy on 
him. Surely, Dolly, you have gotten over your penchant 


6o A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTTOH, 

in that quarter ! When you are once Lady Percy you will 
scarce cast a thought to such a plain Yankee tradesman as 
John, even if his pockets are well lined with gold.” 

“Take care, Lidy,” and Miss Quincy glanced warningly 
in the direction of the little girls. “ Small jugs have pro- 
verbially long ears ! But, whatever I may become, I can 
never forget John Hancock, who has been one of my best 
and truest friends, while his aunt. Madam Hancock, has 
been like a mother to me ever since my own poor mother 
died.” 

“ But to wed an Earl ! To be called ‘ My Lady,’ ” whis- 
pered Miss Coffin. “ Ah, what bliss ! I wish such an honour 
could fall to my share.” 

“ What ! Would you give up your little Captain even for 
a title?” laughed Dorothy. “For I hear that gay maca- 
roni Harris of the Fifth, openly confesses that he has found 
a coffin for his heart.” At which, Alida blushed to her eye- 
brows and protested that her friend was “ too naughty ! ” 

“ Well, then, a truce to such foolish chatter ! For I have 
promised my little guests that I will teach them to tread a 
minuet. So, my dear, be amiable and play a measure while 
I put them through their steps. Come, Mercy! Stand up, 
Betty ! ” 

“ What would Mehitable say to this ! ” thought Betty, as 
she took her place, but she was soon as absorbed as Mercy 
in following the intricacies of the stately minuet de la cour. 
What shouts of gleeful laughter, too, went up as they en- 
deavoured to imitate graceful Miss Dorothy’s high steps, 
glissades and low, sweeping courtesies. On the whole they 
did fairly well, and after nearly an hour’s practice, went 
through it quite correctly, while their instructress was clap- 
ping her hands approvingly at the way they executed the 
balance royale, taking hold of hands and making a deep 
reverence, when a well-bred English voice exclaimed — “ By 



' 4 . 




“they ENDEAVOREH to imitate miss DOROTHY’S... DOW SWEEPINC 

COURTESIES.’’— Oo. 





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King George ! What a charming sight ! ” and turning, they 
beheld a tall, aristocratic-looking man in the uniform of a 
British officer standing in the doorway. “ I knew Miss 
Quincy danced like a sylph,” he said as he advanced, “ but 
had no idea she had taken to teaching fays how ‘ to trip the 
light fantastic toe.’ ” 

“ Oh, yes, your Lordship,” replied Dorothy demurely, “ I 
am past mistress of the art and am thinking of setting up 
as a rival to Master Thomas Turner, the new teacher in 
etiquette and decorum, minuets, cotillions, horn pipes and 
English country dances.” 

“ Do, mademoiselle, do,” cried Lord Percy, “ and I will 
be one of your first pupils. But who, pray, are these pretty 
little nymphs ? ” stooping to peer at them more closely, with 
his near-sighted eyes. “ By St. George and the Dragon 
never have I seen a finer contrast than that dark-haired 
gypsy and this tiny blonde fairy form together ! Allow me, 
little ladies, to salute your rosy lips.” 

But Betty drew shyly back, while Mercy with a toss of 
her head said, — “ No, I thank you, sir, I don’t kiss lobsters." 

Miss Coffin threw up her hands in horror at such rudeness 
to an Earl ; while Dorothy Quincy, though she could scarce 
restrain her risibles, felt obliged to say — Fie, fie, children ! 
Do not be unmannerly,” at which they subsided into a 
corner, feeling very much ashamed. 

But Lord Percy, though he reddened, turned it off quite 
good-naturedly. ‘'Oh, never mind,” he laughed, “the 
sweetest rosebuds have their thorns.” 

“ It is the spirit of the age, my Lord,” put in Alida. 
“ Rebellion seems as contagious as the smallpox and even 
infants are catching it.” 

“ Ah well ! it cannot be for long,” replied the Earl. 
“ Troops are on their way hither from New York, Quebec 
and Newfoundland and the Royal Welsh Fusiliers arrived 


62 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


yesterday and encamped at Fort Hill. Boston will soon 
be overpowered by numbers and, I hope, will yield grace- 
fully.” 

“Your Lordship had better not make too sure of that,” 
said the hostess. “ I have just been much wrought up by 
hearing how the Governor has treated Mr. Hancock. 

“ Oh, I fancy ‘ The Old Woman ’ did about right there ! 
John Hancock is a poor, contemptible fool led about by 
Adams.” 

Betty and Mercy gasped — while Miss Dorothy retorted — 
“ Excuse me Lord Percy, he is a friend of mine.” 

“True! I forgot. Pardon me. Miss Quincy. I should 
not so have spoken beneath your roof. But here comes 
Captain Harris ! Like a mute at a funeral he always fol- 
lows the 

It was a very straight-backed, clean-shaven, spick and 
span little “ red coat,” who now entered and, clicking his 
spurred heels together, made a low bow to the ladies. 

“ Just like a wooden soldier 1” Mercy giggled in Betty’s 
ear. 

He was closely followed by black Caesar bringing in the 
coffee and all were soon served with the fragrant Mocha. 

“What do you think the impudent townsfolk have done 
now?” asked the Captain, after some honeyed compliments 
to Alida, as he balanced his cup on one knee. “ Last 
night, they actually spirited away two field-pieces out of 
our gun-house next the school, and right opposite the 
camp.” 

“ But was there no guard there ?” exclaimed Miss Coffin. 

“To be sure there was; sentinels all round, and how 
they got in is a mystery. It savours of witch work. Mad 
as I was, I could not but laugh this morning to hear the 
sergeant storm and swear. “ They’re gone 1 ” he roared. 


** RED CO A TSR 63 

“ ril be hanged if these rebels won’t steal the teeth out of 
your head, and you keeping guard ! ” 

“ It’s a disgraceful shame ! ” 

“Isn’t it! But we’ll be even with them yeti If 
‘Tommy’ would only give us a chance at the insolent 
vagabonds ! If he only would ! But let us change to a 
pleasanter subject! Will you be at the Concert Hall next 
Tuesday? I hear Miss Quincy is going to favour us with 
a song on that occasion.” 

“Indeed!” cried Lord Percy, catching the last words 
and turning to his hostess. Then dropping his voice so he 
was only heard by the one addressed and by wee Betty, who 
was nestled up to her side, said : “ I implore you then, dear 
Miss Dorothy, if there be any chance that one of his Maj- 
esty’s most loyal subjects can win a place in your estimation, 
you will, that night, sing God Save the King. Sing it as 
an encore. Coming from American lips it will please the 
audience and / shall understand.” 

The disconcerted girl could make no reply and soon after 
both men took their departure — Captain Harris escorting 
Miss Coffin to her grandmother’s door. 

Left alone with the children Miss Quincy appeared 
flushed and excited. “ I fear you have had a stupid visit, 
little ones,” she remarked ; “ but how do you like my Royal- 
ist friends? Is not Lord Percy a noble gentleman ? His 
regiment fairly adores him.” 

“ He has a kind smile,” conceded Betty, “ but I love the 
gentleman now coming up the steps more.” 

A moment later, John Hancock entered saying that it 
was commencing to snow. He looked cold and tired and 
dropped heavily into a chair. “ I saw your fine visitors de- 
part, Dolly,” he said, “so I ventured in. It is so seldom I 
can see you, nowadays, without a red coat in your train. 
Can you give me a cup of coffee ? ” . 


64 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

“Why certainly, John,” and Dorothy seemed glad to 
cover her confusion by ‘pouring the beverage herself. But 
it was Betty who carried it to him. 

“Thank you, my wee, ‘neat-handed Phyllis.’ Now let 
me see if I haven’t something for your sweet tooth ; ” and 
searching in the pockets of his claret coloured coat, Mr. 
Hancock produced a handful of raisins and citron for the 
little girls. “ Samples of goods in my store,” he explaimed. 
But as they ran happily off he sighed. “ I have but a short 
time to stay and am too weary to talk ; so will you sing for 
me, Dolly dear ? Affairs are approaching a crisis. You 
have heard of the disbanding of my company because the 
Governor no longer desired me near his person. Things 
are in a bad way, too, throughout the town. All business 
has come to a standstill. Grass will soon be erowine in 
our streets. Ship-carpenters, joiners, rope-makers and 
black-smiths are all idle. Nobody has work for them. The 
king and his ministry are determind to starve us out. I 
know not what the end will be and feel sick at heart. But 
your voice always cheers me; so sing, Dorothy! Sing the 
Hymn of Liberty'' 

Somewhat reluctantly Miss Quincy went to the spinet 
and commenced in a half tremulous voice; — 

Come, swallow your bumpers ye Tories and roar: 

That the Sons of Fair Freedom are hampered once more, 

But know that no cut-throats our spirits can tame, 

Nor a host of oppressors shall smother the flame. 

In freedom we’re born and like sons of the brave. 

Will never surrender. 

But swear to defend her, 

And scorn to survive, if unable to save.” 

But at the end of the first verse she broke down. “Indeed, 
John, I cannot sing any more,” she sobbed. “I am tired, 
myself. And oh ! hear the wind. It is setting in for a 


RED coats: 


heavy storm and I must see about getting those children 
home.” 

“I will take them,” said Mr. Hancock rising, “and 
can protect them somewhat with my long cloak.” For at 
this time an umbrella was a rare novelty. 

“That is very good of you, John. But first tell me 
what this is about two guns having been stolen from the 
British gun-house. Lord Percy and Captain Harris were 
sorely puzzled over it.” 

“They were, were they? Ha, ha!” and Mr. Hancock 
laughed knowingly. 

“ It was another caper of the Liberty Boys, I suppose. 
But have they confided to you where the cannon are?” 

“Aye.” 

“ Then tell me.” 

“ Can you be trusted, Dolly ?” 

“ Do you doubt me !” And Miss Dorothy bridled indig- 
nantly. “ I am a Quincy. Is not that enough ?” 

“ It ought to be; but crimson cloth and gold lace seem 
so to bewitch our Boston girls, it is hard to know a friend 
from a foe.” 

The hurt tears sprang to Dorothy’s eyes and observing 
them, he quickly added, “There, dear, don’t mind my jest- 
ing ! Of course I can trust Edmund Quincy’s daughter and 
if I mistake not, the guns so secretly lifted off their carriages 
and borne off, are now reposing at the bottom of a huge fire- 
wood box, in the schoolhouse next the British gunnery. 
The lame master kept his leg upon it, while the search was 
in progress to-day and the scholars were mum as mice. 
To-night they will be removed to a safer ^lace and the Boys 
in Blue be two cannon better off.” 

“ All is fair in love and war I presume,” sighed the 
young lady. “ But we are all of English descent and I 
wish we could live in peace and harmony.” 


66 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 


“So do I, with all my heart. But come, little women, 
we must be off, unless we want to be snowbound.” 

And the small girls, whom a maid had been bundling up 
in their outer wrappings, came quickly at the call, each took 
one of Mr. Hancock’s hands and away they went to brave 
the elements now raging fiercely outside. Whew ! how 
the wind swept across the Common and down the narrow 
streets ! How the snow drifted into their faces and necks ! 
So, in spite of the protection afforded by the great storm 
cloak, they were pretty well wet, chilled and blown about. 

Mercy felt no ill effects, but Betty had a restless night 
and awoke next morning with a sore throat and aching in 
every limb. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE LATIN SCHOOL BOYS. 

“ Just at the age twixt boy and youth, 

When thought is speech and speech is truth.” 

Scott. 

The season had been an unusually mild one with little 
snow, so this heavy fall brought joy to the hearts of the 
boys, who next day could hardly wait for school to be over 
before getting out their sleds and enjoying a spin down 
the hills for which Boston was even more famous then than 
she is to-day. 

The lads at the Latin School were particularly jubilant. 
School Street was steep and they had a fine long coast from 
the corner of Beacon almost to the Frog Pond on the Com- 
mon. Hardly then, had Master Lovell spoken the word of 
dismissal, when they were out in the fascinating snow and the 
whole of the short winter afternoon was spent in the glorious 
exhilarating sport. 

True, now grown into a fine, big black animal, was there 
with Winthrop, rolling in the drifts and barking with 
canine delight, while he made himself quite useful by catch- 
ing the rope of the bob sled in his teeth and dragging it up 
hill for his master. 

“ My, but I wish I had such a dog ! ” sighed more than 
one youth as he tugged his own load up the ascent. 

“Yes, there be few beasts so good as True,” responded 
Win warmly. “ He is worth his weight in gold.” 

‘‘ The sliding will be better to-morrow,” remarked 
Edward Saltonstall, “ for the snow will be more packed 


6S 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


down. So all be on your good behaviour and get out early. 
It would be hard lines to be kept in and lose the fun, 

“ I’m glad Mr. Janies is my teacher,” said Harrison Otis. 

He is not half so strict as Master Lovell. Why ; will you 
believe it ! The old gentleman was going to flog Dick Win- 
slow for calling King George “ a crazy loon.” He would 
have done it, too, if his son had not interfered and per- 
suaded him it was bad policy that might injure the school. 

For at this time the ancient institution of learning was 
a house divided against itself, the head teacher beine a 
staunch Royalist, while his son and assistant, James Lovell, 
was a red hot Whig. The curious spectacle might, there, 
then, daily be seen of two masters, occupying desks at the 
extreme ends of the long school-room and, as an old pupil 
has recorded, “ pouring into infant minds, as they could, 
from the classics of the empire or the historians of the repub- 
lic, the lessons of absolutism or of liberalism.” 

Many a battle royal, too, was fought, by the youngsters 
in the schoolhouse yard, as they tried to settle the disputed 
points, so sorely troubling older brains, by the primitive 
means of blows and fisticuffs. 

“ Hurry up, Joe, hurry up !” called Winthrop the second 
morning after the snowstorm. “Get your ‘Yankee 
Cracker ’ and let’s be off ; for I have to go round for Doctor 
Warren before school. Betty has taken a heavy cold and 
mammy’ is worried about her.” 

“ So ! Well, I am sorry for that ! But Twill be with you 
in a moment.” And dragging his' gaudily painted sled, Joe 
Lovering soon joined his friend and together they pro- 
ceeded to the physician’s pleasant little" wooden house, 
standing end to the road in Hanover Street. 

Doctor Warren was out, but his pretty wife invited them 
into the office which was redolent of rhubarb, jalap and ipe- 
cac, enquired most cordially for their mothers and promised 


THE LA TIN SCHOOL BOYS, 69 

to send her husband to Pudding Lane the moment he 
returned home. 

“ But he is driven to death now, and I see scarce any- 
thing of him, “she said. “ A sick country requires a deal of 
his attention as well as his sick patients, and he is always 
running off to some meeting at the Green Dragon.” 

“Daddy says the doctor is one of the truest patriots, we 
have,” responded Winthrop, at which Mrs. Warren showed 
her white teeth in a pleased smile. 

But it was drawing on to nine o’clock and the boys had 
not long to linger. As they approached the schoolhouse, 
they beheld an excited group of their mates, all talking at 
once and gesticulating wildly. 

“ What’s to pay?” shouted Joe. 

“ The devil’s to pay and his red-coated imps have done 
the mischief ! ” retorted a tall youth. “Just see what the 
King’s men have been rfp to. They have spread ashes on 
the hill, to ruin the coasting and broken up all the ice on the 
Frog Pond. Nasty, mean, spoilsports !” 

“ What a dastardly trick ! And so babyish to torment 
schoolboys ! ” 

There was no use in appealing to Master Lovell and even 
Mr. James, though he sympathised with the lads, advised 
pacific measures, urging them to keep their tempers and 
quietly clean the ashes off. 

This they did, but when the same thing was repeated and 
on three consecutive mornings they found their sliding place 
spoiled, the urchins decided to take the matter into their 
own hands and held an indignation meeting at recess be- 
hind the school. 

“ Let’s go down to the camp and knock the daylight out 
of the lobsters with snowballs,” spluttered one little chap. 

“ Oh, no ! ” cried smali Otis. “ They might fire on us, and 
remember Chris Snider ! ” And indeed, all minds did revert 


70 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


to that young victim of a former riot, the only son of a poor 
widow in Frog Lane. 

“ Maybe it would do some good to go over to to the house 
yonder and have it out with General Haldimand ” suggested 
another boy. “ I warrant he had a finger in the business.” 

'' Better yet to go direct to Governor Gage,” said Edward 
Saltonstall. They say he is not a bad-natured fellow and 
Mrs. Gage was a girl of the Colony.” 

“ That’s it ! That’s it!” shouted the majority. ‘‘Ed’s 
head is level 1 We’ll go in a body to the Province House 
and he shall be spokesman.” 

So that afternoon the British Commander had his sur- 
prise, when a delegation of some twenty boys came trooping 
down Old Marlborough Street, in at the gateway and up 
the paved walk leading to the stately brick mansion 
standing in a grove of beautiful shade trees. 

“ I like the bronze Indian shooting an arrow up there on 
the cupola,” remarked Winthrop. 

“Yes,” replied Joe. “ Better than I like the lion and the 
unicorn over the portico.” 

They were challenged by a sentinel in scarlet who was 
pacing up and down the broad corridor, but a good-looking 
young officer, passing at the moment, paused and enquired 
their business. 

He laughed when he heard it, but, himself, ushered them 
into the presence of a stout, clean shaven, rather pompous 
individual, arrayed in a brilliant red coat with gold epaulets 
from which a stiffly starched shirt-frill stuck out like a fin ; 
a long buff waistcoat, skin-tight breeches, white silk hose 
and high shoes with silver buckles. 

He looked amiable, however, and in rather an amused 
tone, exclaimed — “ Bless me, Lieutenant Dalrymple ! What 
have we here ! Why have all these little men come to call 
on me ? ” 


The la r/Ar school bo vs. 


71 


“ They will tell your Excellency themselves ” replied the 
Lieutenant. 

Ed Saltonstall’s face flushed and his throat was very dry, 
but he spoke out bravely. “ We come, sir,” he said, “ to ask 
a redress of our grievances.” 

“What!” cried the General, “Have your fathers been 
teaching you rebellion and sent you here to utter it ?” 

“ Nobody sent us, sir,” replied the young leader stoutly. 
“ We have never injured or insulted your soldiers, but they 
have trodden down and spread ashes on our snow-hills and 
broken the ice on our skating-ground. We complained and 
they called us little rebels and told us to help ourselves if 
we could. Yesterday, our coasting place was spoiled for 
the third time and now we will bear it no longer.” 

“ Well 1 well ! well ! ” gasped the Governor, though his 
eyes shone with admiration of the lads’ courage. Then, 
turning to Captain Harris who stood near ejaculated ; 
“ Good heavens 1 The very children draw in a love of lib- 
erty with the air they breathe ! ” 

“ Yes, young scoundrels 1 ” growled the mite of a Captain. 

But General Gage was made of more generous stuff and 
to the little chaps he said : “ You may go, my brave boys, 
and be assured that if any of my troops hereafter molest 
you, they shall be severely punished. God knows I have 
enough trouble with the Boston men without wanting to 
flight children 1 ” 

“Thank you, sir!” And bowing politely, the delega- 
tion withdrew, while when out on the lawn all threw up 
their caps and gave “ three cheers and a tiger ” for the gen- 
ial Governor, who proved as good as his word and from 
that day the pupils of the Latin School possessed their 
playgrounds in peace and safety. 

But as they were dispersing at the gate, another officer 
accosted Winthrop. Drawing him to one side, he said ; 


7 2 A LITTLE HAtiGHTEk OF THE EEVOLt/T/OH. 

“ See here my fine fellow, have I not seen you with a little 
girl, who sometimes visits Miss Dorothy Quincy ?” 

“ Yes, Lord Percy,” replied Win, who recognised him at 
once. “Miss Dorothy is a very kind friend to my sister 
Betty.” 

“ I thought as much ! Then you know the Quincy resi- 
dence ? ” 

“ Very well, sir.” 

“ Good ! And may I ask you to be the bearer of a note 
there for me ? I will give you a shilling for your trouble.” 

“ I’ll take it, my Lord, with pleasure ; but I want no money 
for the service.” And seizing the billet doux which the 
Earl held out, Winthrop was off like a deer leaving the 
nobleman still fumbling for his silver coin. 

But before reaching Summer Street, he was again stopped. 
This time, by Mr. John Hancock. “Hello, young Mel- 
ville ! ” he called. “ Are you bound for Miss Quincy’s ? ” 

“ Aye, sir.” 

“ Then please be so courteous as to hand her this letter. 
It is important and I fancy you are a trusty messenger.” 

“ Thank you, sir. I’ll do your bidding right gladly.” 

But five minutes later, when Winthrop delivered the two 
missives, together with the message that poor little Betty 
was lying very ill with a lung fever, he had no idea that he 
was playing the part of Cupid, or dreamed that sweet Dor- 
othy would sit up until the wee sma’ hours ’’that night, 
musing over her love letters. 

For a momentous question confronted this Boston belle. 
Whether to “sell her birthright,” wed a title and become 
Lady Percy, or cast in her fortunes with her now distressed 
country and plain, worthy John Hancock. 

“They are both so good! Both so noble 1 ” she mur- 
mured, as she sobbed herself to sleep. 


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CHAPTER X. 


LITTLE MISS BETTY. 


“ Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin I 
At what age does love begin ? ’* 

“ Oh !” the rosy lips reply, 

“ I can’t tell you if I try! 

’Tis so long I can’t remember I 
Ask some younger lass than I.” 

Toujours Amours. 

A CLOUD of anxiety hung- over Pudding Lane. For many 
days, poor little Betty lay hovering betwixt life and death. 
Her fever ran so hicrh that orrave fears were entertained : 
her father sat up half the night and her mother waxed ever 
more white and worn, while Doctor Warren’s visits were 
long and frequent. But, at length, there came a change, 
and the physician’s pills and potions and Mehitable’s devoted 
nursing conquered, for although it was a very pale wraith of 
a lassie who sat up in a nest of pillows one March day, the 
danger was passed and the young convalescent had but to 
regain her strength. A few people were now admitted to 
see her. 

“ Everybody has been so kind,” she said to Mercy, who 
had sadly missed and mourned her companion, and was 
among the first to hasten to her side. 

“ That they hev,” put in Mehitable. “ The Parson called 
twice a week and a lot of big bugs hev been to enquire — 
Miss Quincy and Mr. Hancock and Miss Coffin and her 
handsome old grandmother and two or three others. Most 

o 


^4 ^ Uttle daughter of the revolution. 

of ’em, too, brought posies, or wine or broth. Then Marm . ' 
Titcomb fetched a bowl of jelly and Fly trotted over from 
Roxbury with a bird he had killed and dressed a purpose to 
tempt her appetite. It beats all haow many friends the 
child seems to hev ! ” 

“That’s because she is such a darling!” cried Mercy, 
throwing her arms impulsively around the little invalid. 
But this act sent Miss Sparhawk pouncing down upon her. 

“ See here Mercy Lovering !” she exclaimed. “ You’ll walk 
straight out, unless you can behave yourself and keep quiet ! 
Don’t you know the poor thing is too weak to be mauled in 
that fashion 1 ” 

But Betty smiled faintly, saying — “ There dear Mehitable ; 
don’t be cross I It is so good to see Mercy again and she 
hasn’t hurt me a bit.” i 

The careful nurse, however, would only permit short calls 
— though it was like a breath of fresh air in the sick chamber, 
when next day, Miss Coffin came dancing in with her hands 
full of daffodils and primroses and crying — “ Well, well, you 
naughty mite! What do you mean by falling ill and fright- 
ening us all in this fashion ?” At which Betty laughed but 
pleaded that she “ truly couldn’t help it.” 

“Then, the only way you can make amends, is to get 
strong and well as fast as ever you can, for I hear Dolly 
Quincy has a fine plan on foot for you.” 

“Oh, how is Miss Dorothy?” asked Betty, “and please 
tell me did she sing God save the King at the concert?” 

“ Not a bit of it,” replied Alida. “ Though I verily believe 
she meant to, for she told me she fancied it would please the 
British officers. But when the time came and she had a 
rousing encore after her first song, what does my lady d(\ 
but march onto the stage with her head in the air and give 
them plain Yankee Doodle, of all tunes in the world ! I don’t 
believe the audience liked it much and Lord Percy looked 


LITTLE MISS BETTY. 


75 


black as a thunder cloud, but a group of Boston men down 
by the door nearly clapped the skin off their hands.” 

“Oh, I am glad,” cried wee Betty though she could scarce 
have told why. “ And I guess that nice Mr. Hancock is, 
too.” 

“ Bless me,^ child ! What do you know about it ? ” ex- 
claimed her visitor looking surprised. 

“ Not much,” lisped the little maid. “ But I had a dream 
about him while I was sick. I thought he and Miss Dorothy 
were walking through a corn-field when suddenly, every ear 
of grain turned into a red coat and every leaf and blade to 
swords and muskets. I was sorely frightened, but Mr. Han- 
cock only smiled and said : ‘ We don’t mind, for see, Betty, 
Miss Quincy and I are old friends just like you and Joe ; 
and we love each other just as you and Joe do.’ ” 

“Well, well, well!” gasped Miss Coffin. “That is the 
queerest dream that ever I heard, you funny little thing, 
and how the girls will laugh when I tell them ! ” At that 
moment, however, Madam Davenant, who had lingered be- 
low for a few words with Mrs. Melville, entered the room. 
“ But here comes grandma, so I am going to run off and 
leave you two to visit alone together.” 

Betty found it very pleasant and soothing to have the 
beautiful old gentlewoman sit beside her and speak so 
quietly and sweetly in her soft English voice. “ For I in- 
tend to do most of the talking,” she said, “ and you have 
only to rest and listen. I have just been telling your mother 
that last evening we had a call from Lieutenant Dalrymple 
of the King’s troop, and he told me he believed he had 
relatives of the name of Melville here in Boston. Some- 
time, he declared, he meant to hunt them up^” 

“ Was mammy glad to hear that ? ” 

“Yes, very glad. She thought he must be her cousin 
Fred^ whom she remembers as a bright, nice lad of fifteen. 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


76 

She tells me, too, that she was extremely fond of the Lieu- 
tenant’s mother, who is her own aunt and lives in New York.” 

“Yes, often does mammy speak of her.” 

“The Dalrymples are good staunch Royalists and very 
loyal to the Cross of St. George.” 

“ Do you mean that ?” asked Betty, pointing to a British 
standard which was visible from the window, floating over a 
public building. “ Daddy thinks that sometime we shall 
have a different flag. One of our very own.” 

“ God grant, dearie, that that may be many a long day 
off ! The Colonies would be like lost children if severed 
from the Mother Country’s apron-strings and what could be 
more beautiful and symbolical than those crosses of St. 
George and St. Andrew! You have heard, have you not, 
the lovely legend of our patron saint ?” 

“ Oh no, never. Please tell It to me, dear madam, for I 
do so love stories.” 

“ Perhaps I can find a book with it In for you at Mr. 
Knox’s shop, but meanwhile I will relate It as best I can,” 
and cuddling comfortably down among her pillows, Betty 
listened with delighted attention. 

“ Once upon a time, then, many hundred years ago, — a 
country over the water was ravaged by a terrible monster 
called a dragon which was part snake and part crocodile, 
with very sharp teeth, a forked tongue, claws and wings. 
It could crawl upon the land and also swim in the water. 
Every day It came out of its lair to eat the sheep pastured 
around an old city named Berytus. This went on for some 
time, until all the flocks were devoured, when it took to 
eating little children.” 

“ Oh, dear, how dreadful 1 ” cried Betty, with a shudder. 

Was it not ! and the King of the place was much dis- 
tressed. But not knowing what else to do, he issued an 
edict th^t every day two children under fifteen years of age, 


LITTLE MISS BETTY. 


77 


should be selected by lot and given to the dragon in order 
to keep him appeased and prevent other damage. Many 
a promising boy and gentle girl fell a victim to the horrible 
beast, until at last the lot fell upon the King’s own daughter, 
the Princess Cleodolinda, a charming maiden who was as 
ofood as she was beautiful.” 

o 

“And did the King let her go ?” asked Betty breath- 
lessly. 

“He had to, though he was nearly crazed with grief. 
He offered all his gold and jewels and half his kingdom, if 
the people would consent to her exemption, but they sternly 
refused. He had made the edict, they had sacrificed their 
children and he must give his daughter. Being monarch, 
he fancied he could do as he pleased and he tried to put 
another man’s child in the place of his. But at this his 
subjects waxed furious and threatened to kill him. Then 
the young Princess showed how noble she was by coming 
forward and declaring she would rather die than that there 
should be any trouble. 

“ It was a monstrous sad morning, I can assure you, when 
she bade her father and mother and all her friends farewell 
and went out alone into the green fields, there to wait for 
the dragon to come and devour her. Not an eye was dry 
when the people saw her, in all her youth and beauty, 
going so calmly to her fate, and some watched until they 
beheld the monster come crawling toward her. You may 
imagine how the poor girl felt as the loathsome creature 
drew nearer and nearer, — but just as she felt his fiery 
breath upon her cheek, across the green she spied a finely 
caparisoned horse speeding directly toward her, and on 
its back was seated a stalwart young man with a shining 
shield and waving plumes who was valiantly flourishing a 
sword and lance. This was George of Cappadocia, a brave 
Christian youth, 


7 * 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTIOH, 


“ ‘ O, fly, fly!’ scn^amecl tlie Princess. 

“ ‘ Why should I fly ? ’ he asked quite composedly. 

“ ‘ Because of the dragon ! Do you not sec him ? He 
will cat you as he will me.' 

“ ‘ 1 am not afraid of him and I will deliver you/ replied 
the knight, and at once rushed upon the monster with his 
lance. 

‘‘ Oh, what a combat it was! d'hc dragon hissing, run- 
ning out his forked tongue, snaj)ping his great jaws and 
striking madly with his tail and shar[) claws. But George 
fought bravely and at length, striking his lance through the 
thick hide and shiny scales, pinned the writhing reptile to 
the earth. 

“Cleodolinda was charmed with his courage and thanked 
him, almost on her knees, while the townsfolk came Hock- 
ing out to rejoice and sing his j)raise. But he was very 
modest and said, — ‘ It is not by my own might, but Gocl, 
through Jesus Christ, who has given me the power to sub- 
due this Aj:)ollyon. ’ And hearing that, the whole city 
accepted the Christian religion, for heretofore they had 
all been heathen. 

“ Indeed, the King was so overjoyed that he not only 
became a Christian, but he showered the young hero with 
gold and silver and diamonds and precious stones. 'Phese, 
however, Prince George would not koep but gave them all 
to the poor. In recognition, too, of his victory over the 
dragon, he put the letter X. r(!prcsenti ng the cross, upon 
his banner." 

“ It is a beautiful story," murmurc^d Ihgty, her eyes 
shining like stars. “ But is there no more ?" 

Very little, — for my fine kniglit did not marry Princess 
Cleodolinda as he would have done in a romance!*. Instead, 
he went riding over the world converting |)cople to Chris- 
tianity. The Greek Christians kept him in remembrance by 


LITTLE MISS BETTY. 


79 


adopting the letter X. as the sign of the cross and when 
Richard the Lion-Hearted started on his famous crusade to 
the Holy Land to rescue Christ's Sepulchre from the 
Moslems, — about which you will learn some day, in your 
history — he selected St. George as his protector. So he 
became the patron saint of England and his emblem stands 
for courage in the defence of the truth.” 

“ I shall always think of him when I see the flag,” said the 
little girl ; but the old lady, observing that she looked a 
trifle pale and tired, thought best to withdraw, and kissing 
her warmly and promising to come again, took her depart- 
ure. 

Not many days after, Lieutenant Dalrymple carried out 
his intentions and came to see Mrs. Melville. He was a 
handsome, genial young fellow and quite won the hearts of 
the children, in spite of his scarlet uniform. 

'‘Little Miss Betty looks somewhat like a sister of mine,” 
he said, "and I remember noticing Winthrop among the 
schoolboys who called on Governor Gage, a few weeks ago. 
When these differences between the ‘powers that be’ are 
settled, you must come to New York, Cousin Elizabeth, 
and fetch your little people to make the acquaintance of 
their kinsfolk.” 

‘‘ Nothing would please me better,” responded Mistress 
Melville, "for no neafer relatives have I in all the world, 
while my husband has but one sister who is married to a 
Quaker of Philadelphia. Perchance I may be permitted to 
visit your city.” But she sighed as she spoke, for only too 
well she knew that her strength was failing and it was with 
dim forebodings she contemplated the future of her bright, 
brave boy and bonny little daughter. 

" But perhaps the young man’s coming was a ‘ special 
Providence ’ for it has given me a suggestion,” she remarked 


8o A LITTLE DAUGHTER OE THE REVOLUTIOH. 

to Mebitable and for a week, she was turning the new idea 
over and over in her mind. 

Meanwhile, Betty was wondering why Miss Quincy did 
not visit her and she was, also, somewhat disturbed by the 
warlike talk she heard all around her. Doctor Warren still 
called frequently and always lingered for a political chat 
with the patriotic lawyer, Thomas Melville. 1 hey had a 
great deal to say regarding a Provincial Congress, which 
had recently been formed, and how they were busy organiz- 
ing troops and collecting military stores at Concord and 
other inland towns. 

One day, too, the doctor came in sorely exited. “ What 
think you, now, Tom !” he exclaimed. “ It is reported for 
a fact that the Governor has. received orders from England 
to arrest Sam Adams and John Hancock and despatch them 
across the seas to be tried for treason.” 

“Good heavens, Joseph! Then that means war to the 
knife ! But they will catch a weasel asleep when they catch 
Maltster Sam.” * 

“ That they will ! ” 

“ Oh, but if they do, what will become of him and of Mr. 
Hancock !” cried Betty. “Will they scalp ’em like the In- 
dians do?” And that night she sobbed herself to sleep. 

But the very next morning she was comforted by an early 
call from her much longed for friend. Miss Quincy was 
paler than usual and her eyes heavy and a trifle red as 
though from weeping, but the child thought her sweeter 
than ever as she took her in her arms saying — “ Forgive me, 
little one, for not having been to see you sooner, but I have 
had many things to try me of late.” 

“ Aye, these be troublous days for a certainty,” sym- 


* Samuel Adams was sometimes called Maltster Sam from having once been in the 
malt business. 


LITTLE MISS BETTY, 


Si 

pathised Mrs. Melville, who had ushered the young lady 
upstairs. “ The King’s action regarding our leaders is de- 
pressing to everybody, but I pray they may elude their 
enemies.” 

“Verily, I hope so. And, madam, perhaps I may trust 
you and my pet Betty, with a secret. Mr. Hancock and I 
are betrothed.” 

“What ! At this dire time ?” 

“ Yes, and indeed I am not sure but it was the King’s 
edict that did it,” laughed Dorothy, somewhat nervously. 
“You know, a woman is mighty apt to side with the under 
dog.” 

“And a Quincy never deserts his friends.” 

“ True ! Still, I confess I have been foolish and dazzled 
by a vision of titled grandeur ; but the moment I heard John 
Hancock was in peril of losing his liberty, possibly his life, 
I knew where my heart lay, while I was sure he needed 
me most.” 

“ Noble girl ! You will never regret it ! ” cried Mrs. Mel- 
ville, “And heartily do I wish you joy !” while Betty hug- 
ged her convulsively. 

“And now, dear madam,” said Miss Quincy, “I have a 
favour to ask. Mr. Hancock is stopping at Lexington, with 
his kinsman, the Rev. Mr. Clark, and desires that his aunt 
and I join him there for a few weeks. It is a healthful 
country place and I thought if you would permit your little 
daughter to go with us, the change might soon bring back 
her roses. What say you? May we take her with us?” 
And Betty’s eager little countenance and beseeching eyes 
were so pleading, that her mother could only give a most 
grateful consent. 

So it chanced, that one radiant April morning, when all 
nature seemed atilt with glad new life, a stately chariot 
drove up to the door, with Madam Hancock and Miss 


82 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OE THE REVOLUTION. 


Quincy seated therein. The small, waiting invalid was 
now quite able to walk, but Joe Lovering was there to see 
her off, and nothing would do but he must carry her out in 
his strong, young arms, and see her carefully covered up on 
the front seat. 

There was a chorus of “ good-byes,” a waving of hands, 
and then little Miss Betty rolled away, through the narrow 
streets, across the “ Neck,” and out into the bright, fresh 
country, where there was the very breath of Spring in the air : 
the fruit trees were great fragrant bouquets of pink and 
white bloom, and the birds sang as though their little hearts 
would burst from very gladness, as they flitted hither and 
yon in the beneficent sunshine. 

Peace seemed to brood over all the fair countryside. 
But, alas ! it was but the calm that comes before a storm. 


CHAPTER XI. 


TO ARMS ! TO ARMS ! 

** Listen, my children 1 And you shall hear 
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. 

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five, 

Hardly a man is now alive, 

Who remembers that famous day and year. 

Through every Middlesex village and farm. 

For the country folk to be up and to arm.” 

Longfellow. 

“ I WONDER why SO many red coats are leaving the 
town,” remarked Winthrop, one Tuesday evening at the 
supper table. “ I think I must have met at least fifty, to- 
day, riding towgrd Roxbury Neck, in twos and threes.” 

“ That is so,” said his father, “ Lord Percy, too, has been 
excercising his brigade very often of late, and there is an 
unwonted commotion aboard the warships in the harboun 
They all seem launching their boats and putting them in 
order. I know Doctor Warren fancies there is mischief 
brewing, and day before yesterday, — though it was the Sab- 
bath — Revere rode out to Lexington, and had an inter- 
view with Hancock and Adams. He told me he saw Betty, 
and she was looking quite herself agaiuo*’ 

“ But I wish from the bottom of my heart, that the child 
was at home,” sighed his wife. 

“ Tweeky, week, week! tweak, tweak *” sounded a dole- 
ful and very shrill instrument outsideo 

What on airth is that ?” exclaimed Mehitable. 

Only Joe Lovering, practising on his fife/’ laughed 


84 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


Wintlirop. “ He is trying to learn The White Cockade, 
for he aims to be a fifer in some militia company.” 

“ Sounds like tom-cats!” 

“ Maybe, then, that is the boot-jack thrown at them,” 
chuckled Mr. Melville, as a thundering rap sounded on the 
brass knocker of the front door. 

It proved to be Doctor Warren, John Rowe, Henry 
Knox the book-seller and two or three other Sons of Liberty. 
All appeared agitated. 

“ The British are evidently preparing to march,” said the 
Doctor, “ and I have no doubt they are after our military 
stores at Concord.. The people should not be taken un- 
aware, but Gage certainly has every road out of town closely 
guarded ; so I am at a loss just what to do.” 

“ Send Revere,” suggested Thomas Melville. “He will 
slip by the sentries if anyone can. Here, Winthrop, do 
you scamper off to North Square, and tell Paul we want 
him here without delay.” 

d'he boy did not let the grass grow under his feet, and 
quickly returned with the young goldsmith, to be closeted 
with the other patriots, in Mrs. Melville’s best room, where 
Betty’s sampler, now finished and framed, hung upon the 
wall. 

He was speedily informed of the errand required of him. 
“You had better take a boat across the Charles,” advised 
Doctor Warren, “and keep your eyes well peeled for spies. 
Deacon Larkin will furnish you with a horse, at Charles- 
town. Then ride as you never rode before ! Ride as 
though the Devil and all his imps were after you 1” 

“All right,” responded Revere, “but I must know which 
way the troops are going. Suppose you see Robert New- 
man, the sexton of Christ Church, and have him signal from 
the high steeple. If the lobsters leave in the night by the 
Roxbury road, have him hang out one lantern^ but should 


TO ARMS! TO ARMS! 


85 


they, also, take the short cut by water — swing two lanterns.’' 

“A capital idea ! It shall be done,” cried Henry Knox 
and in less time than it takes to tell, the young man was 
off, and twenty minutes later was rowing across the Charles 
River, right under the hull and within easy gun shot of the 
English frigate Somerset, 

Meanwhile, the other Liberty Boys separated, some to 
watch the movements of the King’s men and others to “put 
a flea in the ear” of Sexton Newman, the result of which 
was that by midnight, two lanterns sent their warning 
beams from the steeple of old Christ Church. 

Across the river, Paul Revere sees and understands the 
message of the lights and leaping upon Deacon Larkin’s 
Bucephalus, is off and away on his famous ride, which has 
now been one of the poetic bits of history for more than a 
hundred years. 

On he spurs his foaming steed, through Medford across 
Mystic bridge to Menotomy, over the hills and through the 
valleys to Lexington Green calling all Middlesex to arms 
and pausing at every farmhouse door to shout: “Turn 
out ! turn out ! The red coats are coming !” nor does he 
rouse the countryside in vain. 

Disturbed by the feeling of suppressed excitement in the 
air, twelve year old Winthrop slept poorly that night, while 
he was awakened very early by Joseph Lovering’s murder- 
ing of the White Cockade 

“ I do wish, old fellow, that you’d do your squawking an 
hour later,” he growled, as the boys started together for 
school. 

“You won’t say so, if some morning I get a chance to 
make the lobsters dance to my fifing,” laughed Joe, good- 
naturedly. “ But bless me ! What has so frighted little 
Otis?” as that tiny chap came tearing around the corner 
with a scared, white countenance. 


86 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


“ The regulars ! the regulars ! ” he gasped ; and sure 
enough ! there drawn up within ten yards of the Latin 
School was Lord Percy’s brilliant brigade. 

“ Is it a dress parade, think you ? ” asked small Harrison. 

“ Not a bit of it,” replied Winthrop. “ It’s war. They 
are bound for Lexington and Concord to seize our ammu- 
nition and to try and arrest Mr. Adams and Mr. Hancock.” 

“ Bad luck to ’em then,” cried Joe, “ And oh, Win ! I 
would Betty was safe back in Pudding Lane.” 

“So do I.” 

“Just hearken what they are playing and singing,” said 
Ed Saltonstall. 

For as the order was given, — “Forward, March!” the 
bands derisively struck up Yankee DoodUy while the men 
with a grin on their faces sang — 

“ Yankee Doodle came to town, 

For to buy a firelock, 

We will tar and feather him. 

And so we will John Hancock.” 

“ I bet a guinea they don’t ! ” shouted one lad, while 
another cut a pigeon-wing and called out — 

“To think how you will dance by and by to the tune of 
Chevy Chase ! ” 

“I wish we didn’t have to have lessons to-day” sighed 
Harrison Otis and it was a relief to all the boys when as 
they took their seats in school. Master Lovell solemnly 
announced — 

“ Deponite libros ! ” 

And they were dismissed for an unexpected and indefinite 
holiday. 

At this same time, in the minister’s pleasant parsonage, 
facing the Green at Lexington, Betty was as blithe and 
happy as the sweet April days were long : hunting eggs. 


TO A MS! TO AJ^MS! 


87 


picking nosegays of wild flowers for Miss Dorothy, drink- 
ing milk and cream until her cheeks began to plump out 
and grow round and rosy, and being petted by the whole 
family. 

Even the Parson made much of her and translated many 
a quaint story from the musty old volumes on his book- 
shelves, into simple language for her benefit, while she took 
long rambles through the fresh green fields and budding 
woods with a merry little neighbour of the Clark’s who was 
named after his father, Jonathan Harrington. 

She thought she should never tire of the beautiful coun- 
try, but bedtime often found her a wee bit homesick and 
after ten days, she began to long for the sight of a familiar 
face. 

“It would do me good even to see a wag of T rue’s tail,” she 
said to herself, and she uttered a shriek of joy when, one 
afternoon, she spied a lean, loose-jointed figure, carrying a 
gun in one hand and swinging a huge fish in the other, 
come lounging across the Green in the direction of the 
house. 

“ Look, look. Miss Dolly !” she cried, “ It is — no it can’t 
be, — yes, it really is Mehitable’s brother. Fly ! ’’and light as 
a thistle-down she flitted down the steps to give the visi- 
tor a vociferous welcome. 

“ Waal naow, Betty, a peep at you, is good for sore eyes,” 
drawled Fliakim. “ And ladies, your most obedient ! ” tak- 
ing off his shabby hat and making an awkward bow to 
Madam Hancock and Miss Quincy, who sat on the porch. 
“ Don’t suppose you caounted on seein’ a Roxbury man so 
far from hum. But when I hooked this salmon — weighs 
fifteen paounds if it doos an ounce — I sez to myself, sez I, 
“ Fliakim Sparhawk, thar ain’t but two men in Massa- 
chusetts fit to eat sech a fish as that, an’ them two air Mr. 
Samuel Adams an’ Mr. John Hancock,’ so off I started on 


88 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 


shanks’ mare to fetch the beauty over here an’ thar he is,” 
saying which, he laid his piscatorial treasure out at full 
length on the grass. 

“ It is a beauty, indeed, and I know the gentlemen so 
honoured, will appreciate it immensly,” said Miss Dorothy 
coming foward and smiling in her most captivating manner ; 
“ if you will kindly carry it round to the kitchen, Dinah 
will see that it is cleaned and put in a cool place. We 
must save it for dinner to-morrow, when guests are expected. 


You go with Mr. Sparhawk, Betty, and see that he has a 
glass of cider and some more substantial refreshment. 

“ The good man, too, must not think of returning to- ; 
night,” said the lady of the house, appearing in the door- ; 
way, we can put him up in the barn if he does not object 
to a bed in the hay loft.” 

“ Yes, Mo stay. Fly,” begged Betty, and being decidedly 
footsore tind weary, Fliakim was only too willing “Be- 
sides, I dunno as I exactly hanker to meet all them lobsters, 

I see along the road, after dark,” he acknowledged. i 

So that evening, Betty invited Johnny Harrington over to ' 
hear the countryman reel off his fantastic yarns on the back 
stoop, while Miss Quincy and the clergyman’s family enter- *v 
tained Mr. Adams, Mr. Hancock, and several other members ^ 
of the Provincial Congress in the drawing-room. i 

But all classes in the eighteenth century were given to ^ 
early hours and it was not long after ten o’clock when the >j 
lights were out at the parsonage and the inmates wrapped 
in profound slumber. Outside, however, several soldiers 
kept watch and ward, for since Mr. Clark’s guests had be- 
come such bright and shining marks for English spite, it 
had been deemed advisable for them to have a guard both 
by day and night. 

Betty slept in a small room off Miss Quincy’s and, long 
before dawn, she was startled wide awake by the same rap- 


TO ARMS! TO ARMS! 89 

ping at the door as had aroused the yeomen all along the 
high road from Boston. 

“Oh, dear ! what can be the matter ! ” she exclaimed, 
sitting up on her couch. Then she heard the seargent’s 
challenge : “ Who are ye, and what is it ye want ? ” “I want 
to see Mr. Hancock,” replied a voice that she fancied was 
familiar. 

“Well then, you can’t,” snapped the sentinel, “the 
Parson and his family mustn’t be disturbed, so hold your 
peace and quit making such a racket.” 

“ There’ll be a monstrous sight more racket presently, 
for the red coats are coming,” retorted Paul. 

At that, a window in the front of the house was thrown 
up and the Reverend Mr. Clark also enquired : “ Who are 
you and what do you want ?” 

“ It is imperative that I see Adams and Hancock.” 

I “ That is Revere !” shouted the latter from the head of 
the stairs, where he and his companion in misery now 
stood ; “ let him in.” 

“ The regulars are on their way here, several hundred of 
them, to seize you,” explained Paul when he was within the 
house. 

“ It is the supplies at Concord they are after,” declared 
Samuel Adams, and five minutes later another horseman 
dashed up to confirm Revere’s words. 

Betty ran crying into the young lady’s chamber. “ I’m 
so frightened,” she sobbed, trembling from head to foot. 

“ But you must be a good girl and keep quiet,” said 
Dorothy. “ It may be a' false alarm.” She, herself, though, 
looked pale, and trembled as she hurriedly dressed herself 
and the child, particularly when the meeting-house bell was 
set clanging, sending the alarm far and wide. 

Meanwhile, Revere, with two companions, continued on 
toward Concord, but was taken prisoner before reaching 


90 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


there. Fortunately, however, one messenger escaped and 
carried the news which speedily turned the peaceful village 
into something quite different from its name. 

It was a scant and hasty breakfast that black Dinah put 
on the table that morning and even this, the two leaders 
could scarcely pause to taste, so busy were they out on the 
Common, directing and forming into line the minute men 
who quickly gathered together. A pitifully small number, 
but staunch and determined. This, too, they continued 
until Major Pitcairn and his six companies of light infantry 
were almost in sight. 

“ O, John, fly ! If you love me, fly to some safer spot ! ” 
pleaded Miss Dorothy. 

“Yes, she is right, this is no place for you,” said Mr. 
Clark. 

“ Nonsense ! Never will I turn my back to the red 
coats,” cried Mr. Hancock, seizing his gun. 

“ But that is foolhardy ! Think ! The country will need 
your counsels. Let others meet the enemy face to face.” 
And as other friends flocked in to back up the advice of the 
calm, wise minister, the two Congressmen were at length, 
induced to retreat to a thick wood crowning a hill near by 
and from there made their way to Woburn, where another 
patriotic clergyman, the Reverend Mr. Jones, gave them a 
warm welcome and comfortable shelter. 

Meanwhile, Madam Hancock, from the door, and Miss 
Dorothy and frightened little Betty from an upper window, 
witnessed the short, sharp fight which ensued, shortly after 
sunrise, upon the Green. 

The King’s men presented a fine appearance as, through 
the tender green foliage of the trees, shone forth their 
bright scarlet coats, white cross-belts and shining buckles ; 
and the contrast was almost painful between them and the 
yeomanry in homespun, standing in a close phalanx, firmly 


TO ARMS i TO ARMS! 


91 


grasping their muskets and with powder horns swung under 
their right arms. 

“But our poor farmers look resolute,” remarked Miss 
Quincy. 

“And see, see!” cried Betty. “Fly has joined them. 
He is loading his old firelock, and there is Johnny Harring- 
ton’s father. I shouldn’t wonder if Jonathan and his mother 
were melting up their pewter plates and running them into 
bullets.” 

But at that instant. Major Pitcairn rode forward, com- 
manding — 

“ Disperse you rebels 1 Lay down your arms and dis- 
perse I 

Not a man stirred, and the next moment Betty was cow- 
ering on the floor as a volley from the red coats seemed to 
shake the very foundation of the house. So the first gun 
was fired and the American revolution had begun. 

It is a severe experience for a little girl of nine to see 
as Betty sees, sixteen minute-men shot down, seven of whom 
are killed outright. One falls on the meetinghouse steps, 
another is pierced with a bayonet and Jonathan Harrington, 
staggering toward his home, as his wife rushes to meet 
him, drops dead at her feet. 

“ Oh, poor, poor Johnny,” sobs the child. And finally 
it is heartrending, to have the handful of brave Provincials 
overcome and forced to flee, while the enemy, led by Col- 
onel Smith and Major Pitcairn, swing their hats and hurrah 
for King George, before marching on to Concord. 

But there is no time for tears, as the injured are being 
brought into the parsonage and the ladies soon have their 
hands full in binding up their wounds and ministering to 
their needs. Even Betty can scrape lint and tear bandages. 

Before sunset, too, things looked brighter. Word came 
that the regulars had been defeated in a sharp skirmish at 


92 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


Concord and being distracted by the farmers, who swarmed 
from far and near, firing Indian fashion, from behind trees, 
walls and hayricks, they beat a hasty retreat to Boston, 
with three hundred less men than they came out with in the 
morning and with a band of jubilant drummers and fifers 
playing Yafikee Doodle at their heels. 

“ Thank the Lord!” said Mr. Clark devoutly. 

It was a very dusty and grimy Fly, who put in an appear- 
ance late in the afternoon. “We’ve had jolly fun! jolly 
fun !” he said, “an’ I swan them lobsters hev got more’n 
they bargained fur. I peppered half a dozen red foxes, my- 
self, an’ you’d jest ought to hev seen old Hezekiah Wyman 
on his white mare, his grey hair afloatin’ in the wind an’ he 
blazin’ away with a rusty, old gun-barrel. The boys dubbed 
him ‘ death on the pale horse. ’ My, but he’s a plucky critter ! 
an’ when I axed him ‘ what you ben doin’ ? He jest answered, 
‘ pickin’ cherries.’ But he didn’t say as haow he fust made 
cherries of the red coats by puttin’ pits into ’em, he, he, he! ” 

“ Where is Lord Percy’s brigade ? Did you see anything 
of that?” asked Miss Dorothy somewhat tremulously. 

“ Ay, that I did. The Earl an’ his sojers hev ben burnin’ 
an’ ransackin’ houses daown the road yonder an’ vowin’ ven- 
geance agin John Hancock. But they air scamperin’ with 
the rest.” 

“ I wish we knew where John and Mr. Adams have taken 
refuge,” said Madam Hancock, — but as she spoke, a mes- 
senger arrived with a note from her nephew. 

“ We are safe and sound with Brother Jones at Woburn,” 
he wrote, “ and would like to have you ladies and Mr. Clark 
dri ve over and dine with us. Bring with you the fine salmon. 
It is a pity to have it wasted ” 

The family was ready enough to comply with this request, 
but after all, Fliakim’s fish — though deliciously cooked and 
served — was fated to cool untasted, for just as the company sat 


TO ARMS ! TO ARMS/ 


93 


down to a late dinner again the cry arose, “ The red coats are 
coming ! the red coats are coming !” which forced the perse- 
cuted patriots to hide in a friendly swamp, until the alarm 
was proved a false one. 

Much shaken in nerve, the following day, Dorothy Quincy 
declared her intention of taking Betty and going home to 
her father in the city. 

“ No, madam, that I cannot allow,” said Mr. Hancock. 
“ You shall not return so long as there is a British bayonet 
in Boston.” 

“ Indeed !” cried the spirited belle, nettled by his mas- 
terful tone, “ remember, Mr. Hancock, I am not yet under 
your control. I shall go to my father to-morrow.” 

Nevertheless, the statesman had his way and it was three 
long years before pretty Dolly beheld her native place 
again. 

But that afternoon, Thomas Melville rode out to Lexing- 
ton, after his little daughter. “ For her mother is sick with 
worrying,” he said, “ and whatever comes, it is best she 
should be with us. Word has arrived that Israel Putnam 
and Benedict Arnold of Connecticut and John Stark from 
New Hampshire are hastening hither, and that in three 
days Governor Gage will be besieged by an army of sixteen 
hundred men.” 

So, perched on a pillion behind her father, Betty galloped 
back to the turbulent town and many times her soft brown 
eyes overflowed with tears, at the devastation visible all 
along the road. Nor did she feel perfectly safe until 
clasped close in her mother s arms. 


CHAPTER XII. 


A SAD BIRTHDAY. 

And children ! You must come in bands, 

With garlands in your little hands, 

Of blue, and white, and red, 

To strew before the Dead.” 

R. H. Stoddard. 

“ Well, now. I’m tickled that that shiftless Fly spunked 
up and showed himself good for somethin’ at last!” ex- 
claimed Mehitable. “ That he should hev been right 
there on the spot beats all ! Must hev felt sort o’ curious 
for him to be on time for anythin’, for punctooality ain’t one 
of Fliakim’s vartues.” 

“ And I am glad to have my girl at home again,” said 
Mrs. Melville cuddling Betty close to her side. 

“So am I glad to be with you, mammy dear, but what 
makes you so pale ? You are as white as curd and ever so 
much thinner than when I went away. You ought to be 
sent to Lexington and fed on cream and fresh milk, warm 
from the cow.” 

“ Perhaps the milder weather will bring back my strength 
and colour.” 

But this it failed to do and, ere long, the gentle invalid 
spent most of the day on the bed and coughed half the 
night. May flowers budded and blossomed but only a 
hectic red glowed, at times, in her hollow cheeks and 
Granny Lovering began to shake her head and say: 
“ Elizabeth Melville is not long for this world !” 

Her husband realised it acutely and he begrudged every 


A SAD BIRTHDAY, 


9S 

moment from her side, but the war cloud was deepening and 
he was forced to be much away at the headquarters in 
Cambridge, being now a Captain, while the devoted patriot 
Doctor Warren, boasted the title of General in the newly 
formed Provincial army. 

Meanwhile, the British were preparing to fortify Charles- 
town Heights and many a timid heart sank like lead when 
three more English commanders, — Howe, Burgoyne and 
Clinton, — arrived with reinforcements. Indeed, numbers 
fled from the city and took refuge elsewhere. 

But our friends in Pudding Lane remained under their 
own roof-trees and Joe practised The White Cockade, 
more vigourously than ever. 

“ We must be prepared for the worst, Bessie darling,” 
said Captain Melville, during a flying visit at home one 
lovely evening in June, when the moon rode like a silver 
boat in the heavens and the air was heavy with the delicious 
incense of roses and honeysuckle. 

“Yes, dear, we must,” replied his wife, although he had 
kept from her the fact that they were even then on the eve 
of a great combat. “ But not one moment would I hold you 
back from your duty to your country. When the call to 
battle comes, I shall be the one to buckle on your sword and 
wish you Godspeed.” 

“And if I fall?” 

“ Then, we will not be long separated. For, Tom, I know 
I have not many days to live. Then listen ! There is some- 
thing I must speak about. We have few relatives in the 
world, so when I am gone, it is my wish that Betty be sent 
to the Dalrymples in New York.” 

“ But Elizabeth ” 

“ There, dear, I know what you would say — that they are 
Tories and you will not be beholden to our foes — but they 
are also good, kind gentle-folk, who will love my daughter 


9 ^ 


A LITTLE DAUGHTEk OE THE REVOLUTIOH, 


for my sake. I have broached the subject to Fred Dal- 
rymple, the young Lieutenant, and he is sure they would re- 
ceive her. Indeed he has even written to sound them on 
the subject. With them Betty will be brought up as a lady 
and we must not let our pride stand in the way of the child’s 
good.” 

“ Very well, dear, it shall be as you desire. And Win- 
throp ? ” 

“ I thought, perhaps, he could go to your sister in Phila- 
delphia.” 

“ Yes, that is probable, as she has no children of her 
own.” 

So the future homes of our little “ son and daughter of 
the revolution ” were settled before that Summer morning 
when all Boston opened its eyes in surprise at the sight of 
the rude fortification which anticipated the slow movements 
of the British, and sprang up like a mushroom in a single 
night, on the crest of Breed’s Hill ; and the thundering 
of cannon ushered in Betty’s ninth birthday, the very 
saddest she was ever destined to know. 

“ Good-bye, Bessie. Good-bye, sweetheart,” almost sobbed 
brave Captain Melville, as he bent to give his wife a long 
parting kiss, and with a supreme effort she raised herself 
and fastened the belt about his waist. 

Her lips could only frame the word “ Farewell,” and then 
she dropped back gasping ; — as her husband hastened away 
to slip through the lines and join the valiant men assembled 
behind rail fences and ramparts of hay, to whom General 
Putnam was giving his famous order — “ Wait for the word, 
don’t fire till you can see the white of their eyes.” 

The Battle of Bunker Hill is too much a matter of history 
to be minutely noticed here, but to the women and child- 
ren waiting and watching and weeping at home it was an 
ordeal never to be forgotten. 


A SAD BIRTiiDAV. 


97 


Fortunately, for Elizabeth Melville, she was almost uncon- 
scious of the fierce and constant firing and all that sultry sev- 
enteenth of June lay with closed eyes, white and motionless, 
tended and fanned by Mehitable and Roxanna Lovering, 
while below, granny stayed with Betty and Mercy, and 
Winthrop and Joe dashed in and out, gathering up any 
rumours that were afloat and bringing back the news. 

“ The red coats are beaten,” was the first report. “ The 
men are running like mad and the commanders are urging 
and fairly driving them back up the hill.” 

“ Tut, tut ! It is too soon to know yet,” croaked granny. 

“ But old Put is here, there and everywhere and the 
fellows in the redoubt are firing like blazes.” And, carried 
away by the excitement of the moment, Joe went capering 
down the street, singing at the extent of his lusty young 
! lungs a very popular Yankee song of the day : — 

“ Look on our Wives and Infants, they pitiously implore. 

To be preserved from Blood Hounds who now infest our shore. 

O ! let not those helpless Innocents become the lawless Prey 
Of Dogs, of Dogs, of Dogs, of Dogs who hate America.” 

“ Hold your tongue, you young rebel ! How dare ye 
call the King’s troops dogs !” shouted a rough voice and 
one of the British rank and file, reeling out of a wine-shop, 
suddenly seized Joe and was about to bring the butt end of 
a musket down upon his head when True, who had followed 
the lads, sprang forward with a low growl and buried his 
teeth in the soldier’s upraised arm. 

With an oath and a shriek of pain, the man dropped both 
boy and gun while Winthrop roared, “ Ha, ha, ha ! You 
see a Yankee dog is better than a British one anyway !” 
And not until the ruffian apologised, would he call True off. 

“ Got the best of a lobster that time ; didn’t we old fel- 
low ?” said Joe, patting the Newfoundland’s head and then, 
they made their way to Copp’s Hill where a' view of the con- 


98 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

flict could be had. A wail of dismay, too, went up from them, 
as well as from the other onlookers when, all at once, Gen- 
eral Howe’s cannon were turned away from the earthen 
redoubt and commenced hurling shot and shell upon 
Charlestown. 

Can they mean to burn the village ? ” gasped Winthrop ; 
and sure enough, flames could soon be seen bursting from 
the roofs, doors, and windows of the little town across the 
river. 

“ It is cruel ! It is wicked ! It is dastardly ! ” Went up 
from a hundred throats, but, after all, the movement may 
have turned the tide of war, for by sunset it was the Pro- 
vincials who were fleeing in confusion and King George 
could claim a victory — but a victory that cost him dear. 

“We are beaten;” almost sobbed the boys when their 
sisters met them on their return. “ The powder and bullets 
must have given out, for our men are defending themselves 
with their musket stocks and with sticks from the rail 
fence.” 

But Betty paid little heed — and presently asked quite 
innocently, being ignorant of the chaos and horrors of war ; 
“Then if the battle is over. Win, do you think you could 
find Doctor Warren and fetch him here ? Mammy is so ill, 
she can hardly speak to me.” 

“What! The mother worse ? ” And Winthrop dashed 
off up the narrow stairs while the little girl burst into tears. 

“ There Betty, do not cry. I will see if I can hear aught 
of him,” said Joe, with rough, boyish sympathy, and he did 
venture out aoain into the turbulent town. But soon re- 

o 

turned with bowed head. “ They tell me that General 
Warren has been killed,” he reported. “ Shot down, and 
then stabbed through the heart with a bayonet.” 

By this time, however, the physician’s services were not 
required and when Captain Melville, who escaped uninjured. 


A SAD BIRTHDAY, 


99 


I succeeded in making his way to his little home, he found 
the sweet spirit of his wife had departed out of all the coil 
and confusion, to the beautiful realms of peace and his 
motherless children were sobbing heart-brokenly by her 
side. 

The fortnight which followed their parent’s death, was 
ever remembered by Winthrop and Betty, as a strange 
confused dream, so shaken to its very centre seemed their 
little world, when, a few nights after she was borne on her 
flower-strewn bier to a quiet corner of the Copp’s Hill 
cemetery and the funeral escutcheons were removed from 
the doors, their father called them into the best room and 
gently informed them of the plans made in their behalf. 

“ Remember this was your mother’s desire,” he said,“ and, 

: under the circumstances, appears the best we can do ; though 
much I wish the Dalrymples were not so English in their 
I feelings. But they have sent a most cordial letter of sym- 
i pathy and welcome by the post-rider, while the young Lieu- 
I tenant seems a fine, whole-souled fellow, if he has a red back.” 

And indeed, Fred Dalrymple had called in Pudding Lane 
i and shown himslf exceedingly kind, and desirous to be of 
use. He it was then, who secured from General Howe, a 
! permit, allowing the young Melvilles and escort to leave 
! the town. 

It was arranged that they were to travel by the reg- 
ular weekly stage to New York, accompanied by Mehitable, 
and from there Winthrop should continue on alone, taking 
I the “ Flying Machine,” as the fast coach was called, which 
I made the trip in two days betwixt New York and Philadel- 
I phia. 

“But why can we not stay here?” asked the boy dole- 
fully. 

“ Because,” replied the Captain, “ affairs in Boston are too 


100 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


unsettled and too unsafe. I must be away with our army 
and never should I know a moment’s peace with thinking 
that you might be burned out like the good folk of Charles- 
town. Ah ! your mother had a clear, discreet head on her 
frail shoulders and I scarce know how to steer straight with- 
out her.” 

“But I never knew any Quakers and don’t believe I shall 
like them.” 

“They can’t be worse than Tories,” sighed Betty, look- 
ing the picture of woe. 

“ My sister Prudence was a dear, good girl,” said Mr. 
Melville, “ and I have no doubt is an excellent woman, 
though I believe she has joined her husband’s Meeting and 
become a Friend. We have met but seldom since she mar- 
ried Josiah Halliday, who is a bookseller and not very well 
off. The remuneration I shall pay them for your board and 
lodging will likely be acceptable. I trust, Winthrop, that 
you will be very respectful and obedient to your uncle and 
aunt and will also improve your time at school, so you may 
be prepared for college, if it is so I can ever send you.” 

“ I will do my best and, father, True can go with me can 
he not ? I would be too homesick without my dog.” 

The Captain hesitated. “ Well, yes,” he finally agreed, 
“you may take him, but if your Aunt Prudence does not 
wish the animal, you must get rid of him there.” 

So it was settled and preparations were pressed rapidly 
forward. Two new black frocks had to be made for Betty 
and all their clothes, books and a few knick-knacks packed 
in long travelling sacks woven of coarse red and green yarn 
with leather tops and bottoms. 

“You ought to be very happy, child, that you are going 
to such lovely, genteel people,” said Granny Lovering to 
the little girl. So, too, thought Alida Coffin, who came to 
bid her “ good-bye ” looking quite sad and subdued, for 


A SAD BIRTHDAY, 


lOI 


little Captain Harris had been slain in the battle of Bunker 
Hill. 

But Mercy was inconsolable over the loss of her friend, 
while Joe squandered his last shilling on a pocket knife 
with three blades for Winthrop and, sawing a silver six- 
pence in two, gave half to Betty, with the request that she 
would always wear it on a ribbon around her neck. 

Only too soon, then, dawned the Monday morning when, 
bidding a tearful farewell to their father and all their friends, 
Winthrop and Betty, under the Dragon-like guardianship 
of Mehitable, and with True tied so he could run beneath 
the four-horse stage-coach, rolled away to a merry blast of 
the outrider’s horn and they started on their week’s journey, 
to the gay little city standing where two rivers meet and with 
a new and untried mode of life all before them. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE BUFF AND BLUE COCKADE. 

“ Shining forth in the heaven above us, 
They recall every morning anew ; 

The hues of America’s freedom, 

The gay, golden buff, and the blue.’* 


Previous to the War of Independence, King — afterward 
Pine — Street, promised to become the court end of the 
city named for the Duke of York, and it was in that quar- 
ter the Dalrymples had built themselves a home. 

There, then, in a stately room of the new mansion, sat 
one summer day, old Madam Dalrymple in her high-back 
chair, looking every inch of the lady she was, from the toe 
of her black satin slipper to the “ Queen’s nightcap” — as 
the muslin head-dress was called — which rested lightly on 
her soft, snowy hair. Her hands were engaged with some 
fine and intricate knitting-work, while she conversed with 
her two daughters, Penelope Graham, a spinster of uncer- 
tain years and the offspring of her first marriage ; and 
pretty, dainty Lucile, own sister to the gallant young Lieu- 
tenant of the Boston troop. 

Well, I suppose, we may look for poor Elizabeth’s 
children, at any hour now,” remarked the old lady, as she 
paused to take up a dropped stitch. 

“Aye,” responded Penelope, “and I must say I dread it. 
It is well the boy is to be packed on to his Quaker kin at 
Philadelphia and I pray the girl may not prove coarse and 


THE BtJFFAND BLVE COCKADE. 


m 

vulgar. But what can one expect of the daughter of a 
Yankee rebel ! ” 

“ You forget, Pen, that she is my own sister’s grandchild 
and blood will tell ! We were all shocked and horrified 
when Catherine insisted upon marrying a dissenting parson 
and going to New England, but she always wrote that she 
was vastly happy and blessed in her choice, while she 
trained her only girl, to be as sweet and mannerly a crea- 
ture as ever drew breath ! ” 

“ Everyone to her taste ! ” sniffed Penelope, but Lucile, 
glancing up from her embroidery frame, declared : “ She 

thought itw^ould be delightful to have a child in the house.” 

“ Even if she is a young rebel, hey ?” asked a masculine 
voice behind her and in lounged “ Uncle Dan,” Mrs. 
Dalrymple’s bachelor brother, an aristocratic-looking man 
with grey side-whiskers and a decided English accent. 
He flung himself at full length on the black horse-hair sofa 
studded with brass nails, and wiped the moisture from his 
brow, with a fine cambric handkerchief. 

“ Devilish hot day ! The weather at any rate, will give 
the small bean-eaters a warm welcome.” 

“ And I trust you will all do likewise,” quoth Madam. 
“They should be here before evening, unless the post 
stage be delayed. That is, if they started on the date 
mentioned by Captain Melville in his letter.” 

“ Captain Melville ! Pah ! A mushroom commission, I 
fancy, conferred by the Provincial army ! Ah, well ! Gen- 
eral Howe will soon put a quietus on that silly rumpus in 
Massachusetts and make the hot-headed Bostonians glad 
enough to eat humble pie. I only hope our New York 
‘ Sons of Liberty,’ will take warning and not be so rash 
as their Eastern brothers. We want no Bunker Hills 
here.” 

“ Good heavens, Dan ! Do not suggest such a direful 


104 


A LITTLE DAtlGHTEk OE THE REVOLUTION. 


thing 1 And now, Lucile, just run up and see that Chloe 
has aired the bed and put fresh water in the child’s room.” 

“ Yes, mother, and I for one shall do all I can to make 
this little Betty happy and contented among us.” 

This, then, was the family to which the young Melvilles 
were coming as rapidly as four horses could drag the low, 
yellow coach rolling down the “ High Road from Boston,” 
and a very warm, weary and dusty little pair they were, on 
this last day of their long journey. 

Not but what the trip had had its pleasures, for every- 
thing was of momentous interest to their inexperienced 
eyes, from the hosts of country children in coarse, butternut 
coloured garments and clumsy home-made mocassins, 
swarming about the log houses along the route, and taking 
their mid-day meal of baked pumpkin and milk out of bowls 
fashioned from pumpkin shells ; to the tall forest trees bear- 
ing the King’s mark, G. R., deeply cut in the bark. 

“ Them thar,” the good-natured driver informed them, 
“air ‘his Majesty’s pines.’ They’re the property of the 
Crown and woe to anybody who dares to touch ’em. 
Even the owner of the land on which they grow, would be 
fined a pretty penny, should he chop one down.” 

“ But that doesn’t seem fair,” said Winthrop. 

“ As fair as a good many of the royal decrees,” laughed 
the genial Jehu. 

It was pleasant, too, stopping over night at the rural 
taverns, where the people were all eager to hear the latest 
“news from Boston where the linen sheets on the beds 
smelled so delightfully of sweet clover and lavender, and 
where there was generally a plump, rosy landlady to take 
them under her wing and make much of the “pore, mother- 
less lambs.” 

It was, too, at one of these inns that they had an 
encounter long to be remembered. Supper had been over 



. . . IN THEM VALLER RKEECHES.” 

—Page I OS. 


“fly’s lean shanks 





Tttn BtfPF And BWE COCkADP. 


m 

sometime and Mehitable was beginning to talk of retiring, 
when four horsemen dashed up to the door, demandincr 
refreshment and lodging for the night. 

They were all clad alike in new uniforms of buff and 
blue, but one, who wore epaulettes and was evidently the 
leader, particularly attracted attention, by his tall and 
commanding presence and* by the extreme courtliness of 
his manner. 

“Who is he? Who can he be?” asked Winthrop of 
the landlord, when that worthy had obsequiously bowed 
the officers into the dining-room. 

“ That, boy,” replied, mine host, proudly, “ is General 
George Washington, the new Commander-in-Chief of the 
Continental Army. He is on his way to Cambridge to 
take command of the troops there.” 

“ Oh, good ! Then our father will be under him ! 
Hurrah !” shouted the lad, tossing up his hat in his excite- 
ment. 

“ And will daddy wear pretty clothes like that ?” asked 
Betty, who was quite captivated by the bright colours. 

“Of course he will,” cried Mehitable, “if that be the 
rig of these fightin’ Continentallers. But lor ! What a figger 
Fly’s lean shanks will cut in them tight yaller breeches ! ” 

“ I should love to see dear daddy dressed so. Blue and 
buff ! It is beautiful and makes me think of the Summer 
sky and the sunshine ! I mean to take them for my colours, 
too.” And all that night, the impressionable little maid 
dreamed of the great Virginian with the calm, strong face, 
while next morning she was early astir, and before the dew 
was off the grass, was out in the garden at the back of the 
quaint little inn, where a wilderness of old fashioned 
flowers ran riot, in a lavish and untrained profusion. 

Over a tumble-down trellis, a climbing rose, with 
creamy yellow petals, was running rampant, while just be- 


io6 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OE THE REVOLUT/OM 

low, the blue blossoms of a bee larkspur suddenly suggested 
a happy thought to the patriotic girl. 

“ Buff and blue ! buff and blue !” she exclaimed joyously, 
and hastening to gather a handful of the posies, she quickly 
made them into a graceful little bouquet, tying them with a 
blade of ribbon grass. 

General Washington was likeVise an early riser, and step- 
ping out onto the porch for a breath of fresh, morning air 
before breakfast, was surprised by the apparition of a tiny 
figure in black, with tumbled, golden curls, who held out a 
small bunch of flowers, stammering — “Please, Mr. General, 
I have plucked- this nosegay, spressly for you, because they 
are our colours, yours, and daddy’s and mine.” 

“ Bless my soul ! ” 

And then, a pleased smile irradiated the somewhat stern 
features of the great man who, however, dearly loved chil- 
dren, and doffing his chapeau, he made her a sweeping bow, 
saying — “ Thanks ! A thousand thanks, little lady ! It 
is a charming floral badge, and it is with the greatest pleas- 
ure I shall pin it here, right over my heart.” 

This, then, he proceeded to do, while Betty blushed, and 
courtesied, and dimpled with delight. 

“ But now, my dear, you must permit me to return 
the compliment,” continued Washington, and taking a 
cockade of the Continental colours from his hat, he fastened 
it on her shoulder. “ Remember too, my child, that it is 
the emblem of American honour and American liberty.” 
Then, as his suite joined him, he cried, “ Look, gentlemen ! 
Here is the youngest, and most bewitching little patriot, it 
has yet been my fortune to meet.” 

“Three cheers for Miss Buff and Blue!” roguishly 
shouted a youthful officer, who was scarcely more than a 
boy ; and so heartily were the huzzas given, that half the 


THE BUFF AND BLUE COCKADE. 


107 

household came running forth, to find Betty standing, with 
crimson cheeks, the cynosure of all eyes. 

The cockade still adorned her shoulder when the stage- 
coach arrived to bear them still further on their way, and 
the gallant chief and his staff stood, with uncovered heads, 
to wave them adieu ” ; and she still wore it, when they 
rolled into New York, across Turtle Creek, and through 
Bowery Lane to the Broadwayo Past the Oswego Mar- 
ket, with its picturesque Dutch market folk from Long 
Island and New Jersey ; past the “ King’s Arms,” where 
British officers most did congregate ; past the new St. Paul’s 
Chapel, past Trinity Church and the Mall, down toward 
Fort George facing the Bowling Green. But an instinctive, 
ladylike tact made her tuck the gay little rosette inside her 
bodice, before meeting her Tory cousins in King Street. 

“ So this is Elizabeth Melville’s daughter,” said Madam 
Dalrymple, as she kissed Betty’s white forehead. “Well, 
my dear, you are welcome, and I trust will soon feel at 
home with us,” while the child was at once attracted to gen- 
tle Lucile, who reminded her of her mother. 

“ It is a lovely, genteel house, too,” she thought, as she 
glanced around at the papered wall — then a great rarity — 
the worked chairs and screens, the massive beaufet in one 
corner, the looking-glass framed in Dutch wood, scalloped, 
i painted white and touched with gold ; and the mould can- 
' dies in the silver candlesticks on the mantle shelf. 

! But Penelope’s careless “ How are you, little folks ? ” was 
I a trifle chilling, while she expressed a hope that Winthrop 
,1 had brought a pair of slippers, so as not to walk over their 
I Turkey carpet with his heavy, neat leather shoes. And 
l! she pointed, as she spoke, to a rug-like square in the centre 
i of the floor. 

I “ Tut, tut, Penelope ! Don’t put the poor boy to the 
1 blush,” lau.ghed Uncje Dan, “ or you may have a small Bos- 


ro8 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

ton rebellion here on the spot;” while Lucile hastened to 
ring, and order that supper be served at once. 

“ For I know these little travellers must be both hungry 
and tired,” she said, “ so the four B s, bread, butter, bath 
and bed, will be more than acceptable.” 

Mehitable had to eat alone, and her sharp nose went five 
degrees higher at sight of the slave-girl Chloe, in her trim 
gown of linsey-woolsey and voluminus check apron, with a 
gay bandanna wound about her head. 

“ For I don’t set much store by niggers,” she complained 
to Betty. “ They’re so shiftless ! If that’s the sort o’ help 
they keep raound here, Hetty Sparhawk will be makin’ 
tracks back to Boston, mighty quick. Anyway, I dasent 
leave Fly long alone. He’ll be gettin’ into trouble, even in 
the army, if I’m not nigh at hand to keep an eye on him.” 

She was as good as her word, and the return stage saw 
her homeward bound, though, faithfully and honestly 
attached, in spite of her spicy tongue, she could hardly 
restrain her emotion at bidding “ good-bye ” to her dear 
mistress’ children. 

Winthrop remained a week with his New York relatives, 
and every day he, Lucile, and Betty, gravely escorted by 
True, enjoyed a fine walk about the city, for the weather 
was perfect, and the blue waters of the bay sparkled like 
diamonds in the sunlight. 

Sometimes they joined the fashionable promenade on 
Broadway, where the belles and beaux paraded every pleas- 
ant afternoon ; though Winthrop preferred wandering out 
to the Tea Water Pump and Collect Pond, or walking 
round the Fort and taking a peep through the palings at 
the Governor’s beautiful gardens. One morning, Lucile 
had shopping to do, in the gay little stores on William 
Street ; — and another, they spent on the smooth, sandy 
beach, (about where Greenwich Street now runs), watching 


THE BUFF AND BLUE COCKADE, 


109 

the fishermen draw in their nets filled with herring and 
other fish ; and some of the urchins of the town swimming 
and sporting in the waves. Another day they went to 
“ Aunt Katey’s Mead Garden ” for soft waffles and tea. 
That is, Lucile and Penelope, who was of the party, had 
cups of fragrant Hyson, while the children drank milk with 
their tender, diamond-stamped cakes. 

Miss Graham looked rather grim when they enquired if 
the tea was “ Hyperion ” and finding it was not, politely 
declined. I am sorry to see, Betty,” she observed, “ that 
you have not been taught to revere the Lord’s anointed 
and respect his laws.” 

“ Who is the Lord’s anointed. Cousin Pen ?” asked Win- 
throp. 

“ Why, his gracious Majesty to be sure, our sovereign, 
King George. Do you not know that ‘the powers that be 
are ordained of God ’ ? ” 

But the boy shook his head doubtfully and when on 
Sunday, they all went to Trinity, then called the English 
Church, Mehitable herself could not have sat up stiffer 
and straighter than he, while Dr. Auchmuty prayed for the 
King and all the Royal family. 

But aesthetic little Betty was deeply impressed by the 
stately sanctuary, the rythmical chanting and beautiful ser- 
vice. “ I think I shall like being an Episcopalian,” she 
confided to her brother, “and Lucile tells me General 
Washington is one, too.” 

“ I wonder if I will have to turn Quaker,” laughed the 
boy. “ But, Bettina, what will you do with yourself on 
week days ? ” 

“ Oh, Aunt Dalrymple says I am to go to a girls’ school 
and am to have lessons in dancing and tambour work and 
on the harpsichord. So there will not be very much time 
to be homesick,” 


no 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


Nevertheless, she cried so bitterly that Uncle Dan 
dubbed her “weeping Niobe,” when the day arrived for 
Winthrop and True to depart and she saw them off on a 
scow for Staten Island, at which point the fast conveyance 
known as the “ Flying Machine ” started from the Sign of 
the Blazing Star, on its two days trip to the City of 
Brotherly Love. And that night, she felt a very desolate 
little being, indeed, and early creeping into her big, 
curtained, mahogany bed, sobbed herself to sleep, with the 
buff and blue cockade pressed close against her heart. 










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“WKEi'iJN'G NiOHi:.”— /i/»r jia. 


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CHAPTER XIV. 


QUAKER DAYS. 


“ My school-boy days, my school-boy days, 

Oh 1 how they flit across the mind, 

With all their little garish plays, 

Like some bright vision, far behind,” 

WiNTHROP Melville, I am pleased to see thee.” The 
words fell soothingly on the ear of the boy when, having 
been landed in Philadelphia, he found himself standing 
before a modest little bookstore in Laetitia Court and a 
woman, in the severe garb of the Society of Friends, 
stepped forth to meet him. As, too, a pair of bright, dark 
eyes beamed on him lovingly from the placid face in the 
close muslin cap, he threw his arms around her neck crying 
impulsively, — “You are my Aunt Prudence, I am sure, 
and are just what father said you were.” 

“ I trust, then, that Thomas has not been too profuse in 
his praise, or thee may be disappointed. We are plain 
Friends, Winthrop, and lead very quiet lives, but we shall do 
our utmost to make thee content. Is that thy dog?” 

“ Yes. This is my pet True, and he is the best beast that 
ever wagged a tail. I hope you do not object to my keep- 
ing him.” 

Prudence Halliday looked somewhat doubtful, but she 
I only said, — “Well, we will consult thy uncle Josiah,” and 
led the way to an apartment in the rear of the shop, the 
floor of which was carefully sanded while it was most 
I simply furnished with a square table and chairs of red wal- 


112 A LITTLE DAUGtiTEk OF THE REVOLVTIOLT. 

nut, a rush-bottomed rocker, a settee of unpainted pine — that 
could be transformed into a bed at night — and an open 
Franklin stove (a heating apparatus just then coming into 
vogue). But all was spotlessly neat and clean and the white 
muslin curtains at the windows were like drifted snow. A 
middle-aged man, wearing a drab “ banyan ” or dressing- 
gown, sat there poring over a book. Nor did he notice 
their entrance until his wife laid her hand on his shoulder 
saying, — “Josiah, Thomas’s son has arrived from Boston 
town.” 

Then, however, he arose at once and gave the lad a cordial 
shake of the hand and a few hearty words of welcome. 
But, he too, glanced dubiously at the Newfoundland. “ I 
hope thy animal is not a prodigious eater,” he finally 
remarked; “for provisions are becoming very scarce and 
high.” 

“ Oh, no,” Winthrop assured him. “ Some scraps from 
the table and a meat bone now^ and then quite satisfies True ; 
while if I may, I will build him a house, myself, out in the 
back yard.” 

“Very well, very well. He shall stop if we can keep 
him. Now, the supper is on the table, so set thee down and 
partake.” 

The meal was a frugal one, consisting chiefly of balls of 
batter known as “ pop-robbins,” dropped into boiling milk; 
and a loaf of gingerbread to top off with ; and soon after 
the board was cleared, two more elderly “ studies in grey” 
appeared who were presented to Winthrop as “Caleb and 
Bathsheba Scatter^ood.” 

o 

The lad was at once attracted by the genial, almost 
jovial, smile irradiating the rosy, wrinkled countenance of the 
old man, and by the twinkle in the eyes under the broad- 
brimmed felt hat, as he greeted him with, — “ How does 
thee do, Winthrop ? I hope thee is well, my son. So thee 


QUAJCER DAYS, 


113 

comes hither from that bloody town of Boston where 
knocks are being given for American liberty ! Well, I pray 
that our men may get the best of their enemies.” 

“ Caleb ! ” 

The name shot like a cannon-ball from the lips of his wife. 

Thee forgets thyself! Such words are not seemly for a 
peaceful Friend. We have naught to do with the strife and 
discord of the world.” 

“ Mayhap not now, Bathsheba, but we are like to have 
before this struggle is over. By the way, Josiah, what think 
thee of the new paper money, issued by the Continental 
Congress? They say no one is allowed to decline it. Will 
that work us good or ill ?” 

“ 111, I do greatly fear. Things were bad enough before, 
this may mean ruin.” 

“ Then thy trade is not looking up ? ” 

“ Nay, it is worse if anything. Folks can scarce buy 
necessities, why should they indulge in the luxury of books 1 
I have been forced to run a little in debt, Caleb, and my 
heart is heavy within me.” 

The tone of his uncle’s voice and the sigh that accom- 
panied these words touched Winthrop to the quick, but the 
old Quaker responded cheerily, — “ There, fret not thyself, 
friend Halliday ! When Congress meets again, thy wares 
will be more in demand, and now thee has this fine lad to be 
I a comfort and an assistance to thee.” 

; “Aye. His coming seems a godsend, for Thomas Mel- 
I ville pays liberally for him.” 

j “ Good ! And, of course, he is to go to school ! Where 
1 will thou send him ? To the fine Griscom Academy with- 
l| out the town ? ” 

ij “ No, that is too far off. I was thinking of the Friend’s 
School in South Fourth Street. The head master, John 


it4 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

Todd, is a scholarly man and well versed in the training of 
youth.” 

“ But uncle,” put in Whinthrop, “ I am afraid I can never 
remember to say thee and thou.” 

“ That is not absolutely required of those pupils who are 
not from the families of Friends.” 

Meanwhile, Bathsheba had laid aside her straw “ beehive” 
bonnet and she and her hostess were deep in converse re- 
garding “ Yearly,” “ Quarterly,” “ Monthly,” and “ Prepara- 
tive” meetings, interspersed with receipts for cucumber 
pickles and criticisms on a “ sister ” who had paid a visit to 
England and returned with gold “ temple spectacles.” 

“ I fear that Charity is waxing worldly,” said the elder 
Quakeress, “ for I noted an edging of lace on her neck 
handkerchief last first day, and this morning I met her 
with a sprig of Jerusalem cherry stuck in her bodice.” 

“ Well, 1 have pinks and snowballs in my little garden 
and, in the sixth month, it was quite gay with roses,” replied 
Prudence. “ Surely, too, all spectacles are more for use 
than ornament.” 

“ Ah, Prudence, thee was not born and bred a Friend 
though I verily believe thee hath acquired the ‘ innerlight,’ 
sighed Bathsheba, shaking her head. “ But the discipline 
is decisive on this matter. No consistent Friend should 
wear jewelry of any description and you must surely concede 
that gold-bowed spectacles are jewelry. As for flowers, I 
wish they were all drab.” 

This struck Winthrop as so absurd that he nearly giggled 
aloud and had to cover a laugh with a cough, when the strict 
old Quakeress suddenly turned upon him, demanding, — 
“ Winthrop Melville, shall we see thee at Friend’s meeting ? ” 

He stammered that he supposed he should attend church 
with his uncle and aunt ; — but was glad that, just then, 
Prudence noticed that he looked tired and proposed his 


QUAICER DA VS. 


“5 


retiring to the neat little chamber prepared for him on the 
floor above. In spite, too, of the change in his life, he was 
soon sound asleep in the low, narrow poplar-wood bed painted 
a dull green. 

Winthrop’s first impressions of Philadelphia can, however, 
be best given by a letter he sent, by the post-boy, to Betty 
several weeks later. After giving a minute account of his 
trip in the “ Flying Machine ” and his reception in Laetitia 
Court, he wrote, — The last first day of the seventh 
month, then, saw me sitting up very stiff and straight beside 
Uncle Josiah, on the men’s side of the Market Street Meet- 
ing-House — and very much amused by the folks who came 
streaming im Most of the men wore drab clothes of coarse 
wool, with horn buttons, and broad-brimmed hats with loops 
on the side ; though a few wealthy ones had fine broadcloth 
coats and breeches, laced with silver and with silver-mounted 
buttons of conch shell. The women were quite as odd in 
their plain gowns and beehive, or waggon bonnets, but one 
young lady had her head covered with a black silk hood 
with long ends hanging down the front of the shoulder. 
Later, I learned that that was because she was a bride. 
The boys and girls looked like small men and women cut 
short, only one of the latter was a little beauty, in a chintz 
frock, and with a white beaver hat tied under her chin with 
silk cords. I let my eyes wander pretty often to where she 
sat on the women’s side and several times caught a demure 
glance in my direction, when we all waited, still and mum as 
mice, for someone to speak, no sound being heard except the 
twittering of birds in the button-wood trees outside. 

'‘Suddenly, the silence was broken by the funniest thing. 
A parrot, belonging to a Quakeress who lives next the 
meeting-house, came hopping in at the door and in a cracked 
voice, like a rusty gate-hinge, shrieked, — ‘ Hannah Roberts, 
Poll wants her breakfast/ 


Ii6 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

“ Of course it was hustled out in a hurry and I did not dare 
laugh aloud, but I nearly choked and the girl in the white 
hat, after one look at me, buried her face in her handker- 
chief and shook like a bowl of bonnyclabber. Then came 
another period of silence, until Bathsheba Scattergood took 
off her bonnet and knelt down and, I must say, she made 
an excellent prayer, while everyone rose and the brethren 
uncovered their heads. After that, a very old Quaker stood 
up and preached a sort of sermon, but there was no singing ; 
and at last, the leaders shook hands, we all did the same and 
the meeting was over. 

“The next day. Uncle Josiah took me to the Friend’s 
School and put me under Master Todd, who introduced me 
to the other teachers, of which there are four or five. 
Boys and girls go there together, and the first one I spied 
was my pretty little Quakeress. She knew me at once, 
smiled, and holding out a big yellow pear, said roguishly : 
‘ Does Poll want her breakfast ? ’ I laughed and took a 
bite, and so we became friends. Her name is Rebecca 
Coleman Fox, and she is named for her great grandmother 
who came over the sea when little more than a baby, with 
the earliest settlers of the town and dwelt here in a cave. 

“ ‘ I remember great-grandmother quite well,’ she told me 
at recess, ‘ for she lived until five years ago. She was very 
charitable, always ready to share her last sixpence with any 
beggar she met. They say that when a child, she was one 
evening sitting outside the cave taking her supper of milk 
porridge, and someone heard her say “ Nay, thee shan’t 
again.” “ Now, it is thy turn.” “ There, keep to thy part,” 
and on going to look found her feeding a snake, giving him 
every other spoonful, but mildly reproving him when he 
was greedy and tried to sip from the bowl.’ 

“ It is such a pretty little story, I thought I would repeat 
it to you, Betty, and it was prettier yet when Rebecca told it. 


QUAKER DA YS. 


I17 

The teachers in the school are as strict as Master 
Lovell was, and Jolin Todd is more so. He would as soon 
flog a boy as eat his dinner. He hoists the culprit up 
across another boy’s back, and then lays on the lashes with 
a rawhide which stings for a whole day afterwards. I have 
not felt it yet, but even some of the girls have not escaped. 
Three little shavers had it yesterday Tor playing a prank on 
the Latin master. Robert Proud still sticks to a wig, and 
a very bushy one, though, as you know, most men now 
wear queues. These chaps wished to give him a hint to 
keep up with the mode, so what did they do but bore a 
hole in the floor over his class-room and let down a cord, to 
which a pin-hook was fastened. This they caught in the 
wig, and away it went clear up to the ceiling, where it hung 
looking, for all the world, like a big, black, hairy spider. 
Robert Proud fairly foamed with rage, and catching the 
little devils carried them off to the head-master, who sent 
them home with red eyes and smarting backs. 

“ But some of these young Quakers are fine fellows, and 
I have made several first-rate comrades among them, for I 
am the star runner in the foot races, and fairly good at ‘ pitch- 
penny’ and ‘ chuckers.’ They, on their part, have shown 
themselves vastly friendly, taking me to fish in Pegg’s Run, 
and promising that next winter they will teach me to skate 
‘ High Dutch.’ 

“In the evening I help in the shop or read some of the 
books, while I am learning to love Aunt Prudence more 
and more. But I fancy something is worrying her, though 
her Quaker composure is rarely disturbed. Uncle, also, 
looks sad and troubled, and seems to begrudge the spend- 
ing of every penny. From what I can gather, I fear there 
is some obligation he will not be able to meet. 

“ True is bigger and blacker than ever, and we take him 
for fine swims in the river. 


Il8 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

*'1 hope you find your New York home to your mind, 
and are happy at your school. Do you practice diligently 
on the harpsichord ? My sedate Quaker friends think all 
musical instruments a device of the evil one. 

“ I enclose a letter from our father written to us both 
from the Cambridge camp, and full of good advice. You 
will see that he is going into Canada with Benedict Arnold, 
and that Joe Lovering is now a fifer in his company, though 
hoping for a berth on one of the naval vessels being fitted 
out. He must have learned to play The White Cockade 
at last. 

My respects to Aunt Dalrymple and our cousins, and 
pray return as long an epistle as this — which has been the 
work of many odd moments — to 

“Your loving brother, 

“ WiNTHROP. 

“Third Day, Ninth Month, 1775.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


MADCAP PEGGY. 


“ A little bit of a woman came 
Athwart my path one day ; 

So tiny was she that she seemed to be 
A pixy strayed from the misty sea, 

Or a wandering greenwood fay ! ” 

Eugene Field. 

‘‘Betty, here is a notice that may interest you;” re- 
marked Penelope, one morning in late September ; and she 
read aloud from the semi-weekly Gazette : 

“ This evening was married at the seat of Thaddeus Burr, 
Esq., at Fairfield, Connecticut, by the Reverend Mn Elliot, 
the Hon. John Hancock, Esq., president of the Continental 
Congress, to Miss Dorothy Quincy, daughter of Edmund 
Quincy, Esq. of Boston. Florus informs us, that in the 
second Punic war, when Hannibal besieged Rome and was 
very near making himself master of it, a field upon which 
part of his army lay, was offered for sale, and was immedi- 
ately purchased by a Roman, in a strong assurance that the 
Roman valour and courage would soon raise the siege. 
Equal to the conduct of that illustrious citizen was the mar- 
riage of the Honourable John Hancock, Esq., who with his 
amiable lady, has paid as great a compliment to America7i 
valour, and displayed equal patriotism by marrying now, 
while all the colonies are as much convulsed as Rome, when 
Hannibal was at the gates.”* 


*A verbatim copy of the Hancocks’ marriage notice. 


120 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 


“Well, I must say she is a brave Avoman to wed a man 
with a price on his head ! ” 

But the little girl heeded not this slap, and cried joyously, 
“Oh, is dear Miss Dolly really married? How I wish I 
could have been there, for I have never seen a wedding in 
all my life.” 

“This was likely a very quiet affair,” said Lucile, “ not at 
all like the big rout Lena Van Cortland is to have next 
month. That will be a marriage for you ! Everything in 
high, hearty, Holland fashion, but exceedingly genteel.” 

“ Peggy Van Arsdale is cousin to Miss Van Cortland,” 
lisped Betty, half shyly, “ and she said she would try and 
get an invite forme.” 

“Did she, indeed! Well, if she succeeds, you shall cer- 
tainly go with Howard Francis and me,” which kindly 
promise sent the small maid off with a light heart and 
skipping step to Mrs. Joy’s School, where “Young ladies 
and children were introduced to or completed in their im- 
provements in Reading, Arithmetic, Penmanship and Epis- 
tolary Writing;” as the circular announced. Here Betty 
had now been a pupil for five weeks, and her seatmate and 
bosom friend was, at present, one Margaret Van Arsdale, a 
little, merry-faced witch of a Dutch girl, who was dubbed by 
her companions “ Madcap Peggy.” 

This morning, the lively lassie flew to meet her, exclaim- 
ing, — “ It is all right ! I have told Lena what a dear little 
Yankee Whig you are, and she says that to the wedding 
you shall be asked. She is going round to speak to 
Madam Dalrymple about it this very day.” 

“ Oh, goody, good ! That is fine.” 

“ Isn’t it ? And I tell you, Betty, we will have fun, for 
Jack — my sailor brother — is to be at home, and always does 
the father say we are a team to make things spin.” 

The bride-elect proved a girl of her word and, as the old 


madcap PEGGY, 


121 


English lady truly desired to render her small kinswoman 
contented and happy, consent to an acceptance of the invita- 
tion was given, and a little frock of embroidered white lawn 
ordered, while Betty was fitted into a pair of “hollow 
breasted stays,” which she thought terribly stiff and uncom- 
fortable, but Penelope assured her that “ pretty must hurt.” 

At this period, the Dalrymple mansion was a very popu- 
lar dropping-in-place for the belles and beaux of the town, 
Lucile being a general favourite, and her mother most hos- 
pitable. Nor had political differences yet severed friend- 
ships as they did soon after. British officers. Sons of Liberty, 
and those with no particular bias, then, often gathered 
around the cosy tea-board in the drawing-room, and paid 
compliments to the young daughter of the house. It was 
plain though — even to the little stranger in their midst — 
that Lucile chiefly favoured Howard Francis, a well-born 
Englishman, who had studied medicine and who had come 
to make his way, as a physician, in the new world. He it 
was who was to accompany Miss Dalrymple to the Van 
Cortland wedding, and he readily agreed to take wee Betty, 
also, under his wing. 

Eagerly, then, the child looked forward to the festal day, 
and it was ushered in by the arrival of the hair-dresser, at 
six o’clock in the morning, to arrange Lucile’s hair over a 
cushion in a wonderful towering structure ; but Miss Pene- 
lope wisely decreed that Betty looked far better with her 
simple, natural curls. 

The ceremony was to take place at the Van Cortland 
homestead at three o’clock and, as the weather was some- 
what threatening, they pattered off in their pattens and 
“ camblets,” never dreaming of having a carriage to convey 
them so short a distance. 

“ I feel like a thorn betwixt a full blown rose and a rose- 
bud,” remarked young Doctor Francis, as he gave an arm 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

to one and a hand to the other, and helped them over the 
gutters. 

Peggy treated her friend to a most vociferous welcome, and 
proudly presented a spruce looking little “middy,” in a short 
jacket and full “petticoat breeches,” as “ my brother Jack.” 

“ And a Jack Tar at your service,” he put in, with a com- 
ical grimace. “ Really, Miss Betty, I am jolly glad to meet 
you, and Peg and I have been keeping a place where you 
can have a good view of the bride. Lena is worth looking 
at to-day — the trimmest craft a-float, and with all her sails 
spread. I bet her masthead is the highest in the fleet.” 

“Then I am afraid it will topple over,” laughed Betty, 
glancing round at the exaggerated pompadours and spread- 
ing hoops of the damsels seated primly about the spacious 
apartment,, flirting their huge fans and exchanging formal 
speeches with the swains in attendance, who fumbled 
nervously with their steel watch chains and shook out 
clouds of flour into the air whenever they moved their 
heads. 

But, presently, in trotted two negro men, gay as flamingos 
in green coats, red breeches, blue stockings and yellow 
vests. These passed mahogany trays laden with bread 
and butter, nut-cakes, symbols and tiny cups of steaming 
chocolate. And not until the company was refreshed, did 
the gowned and bewigged parson take his station at one 
end of the room and the bridal party make its appearance. 

First came two blushing maidens in white dimity dresses 
and top-knots, escorted by two dandies in scarlet ; and 
behind them stepped the pretty bride. Her flaxen locks 
were, likewise, strained up over a cushion at least a foot 
above her scalp, well pomatumed and powdered and 
adorned with a single white rosebud. Her willowy form 
was braced up in a satin bodice, the smoothness of which was 
only rivalled by the skin-tight sleeves, while the shimmering 






MADCAP PEGGY. 


123 


skirt was well extended at the bottom by an ample hoop. 
A filmy lace kerchief covered her neck and bosom and was. 
fastened by a pin containing a miniature of her fiance 
set in virgin gold — while tiny, white kid shoes, with high 
heels and pointed toes and all aglitter with spangles, peeped 
in and out from beneath her snowy petticoats. 

“Oh, isn’t she lovely ; just like a white snow maiden ! ” 
breathed Betty softly. 

“Yes, all rigged to set sail on the sea of matrimony,” 
chuckled saucy Jack. “But what ails the groom He 
looks at half-mast and nearly scared out of his satin pumps. 
No wonder, though, poor chap ! since he spent all yester- 
day afternoon in the barber’s hands and sat up all night, 
for fear of mussing that elegant queue, standing out like a 
skillet handle.” 

“ But his clothes are monstrous fine, and the very tip of 
the mode,” said Peggy, gazing admiringly at the pale, limp 
young man's full skirted coat of sky blue silk, lined with 
yellow ; his embroidered vest, white satin knee breeches, 
tied with pink ribbons, silk stockings and rich lace ruffles. 

The Dominie’s air was so solemn as he united the couple 
in the “ holy bonds of matrimony,” that Lena’s mother 
and spinster aunt snivelled audibly and he followed up the 
service, by a very long and serious address to which the 
young people listened impatiently. 

But this over, there was a general rush forward to kiss 
the bride ; Pompey and Cato tuned up their fiddles, and 
the newly wedded pair leading off in a minuet, all the guests 
danced and romped until the collation was served. Jack 
executed a hornpipe which called forth around of applause, 
and Peggy and Betty pranced round in jigs and hipsisaws 
as merry as grigs. As for Lucile and Doctor Francis, they 
kept straying off into quiet corners and had ears and eyes 
for no one else. 


124 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 


“ Ladies and gemmans, please to walk in to supper,” 
announced Pompey, and holding out an arm to Betty, 
Jack said : “ Let me steer you out.” 

“ But we ought to wait for Peggy. She has just run off 
somewherOo” 

“ Oh, she’ll follow after, never fear. A flibbertigibbit is 
Madcap Peg, but she won’t lose such a tip-top mess as this 
is to be.” 

A “tip-top mess,” truly Master Jack, with fish, flesh and 
fowl all represented ! Roast ducks and a fatted turkey, 
divided favour with smoking sirloins of beef and a pair of 
hams, decorated with stiff little sprigs of green box. A 
noble salmon hobnobbed with a dish of sausages and fried 
apples, and on each corner of the table rested a savoury 
pumpkin pudding surrounded by a ring of tarts. Quivering ^ 
moulds of clear golden and crimson jelly were set here and 
there, while the crown of the bridal feast was a wedding 
cake on a stand in the centre of the board, — a cake as 
large as a bushel basket, rich with fruit, thickly covered 
with a coating of sugar and plentifully studded with flowers 
and gingen Wine, cherry brandy and strong waters 
flowed freely and the health of “ Lena and Ludwig,” was 
quaffed again and again. 

“My stars! Never in all my life did I see so full and 
splendid a board 1 ” ejaculated Betty in astonishment. 

“ No, it takes a Dutch vrouw to make a goodly spread,” 
responded Jack, just as Peggy came rushing in, her eyes 
sparkling with mischief. 

“ Lena’s bag I have stuffed with rice,” she snickered. 

“I have hidden some in the trimming of her new ‘ skim- 
mer 'hat and put three fistfuls in the pocket of Ludwig’s , 
great coat. Then on the carriage in which they are to 
ride, I have tied white satin bows and for a month have 
been collecting old worn out shpes and slippers, so we can 
give them a bouncing send-off,” 


MADCAP PEGGY, 


125 


“ Good for you, little Peg-top ! ” shouted her brother, and 
when the hour of departure arrived, the bride and groom 
had fairly to flee before the tornado of hard, white grains, 
raised by the three youngsters, while as they drove away 
in a one horse, square-top chaise, a shower of missiles sped 
madly after them. 

“ Let us hope the children’s nonsense will really bring us 
bliss and prosperity,” laughed good-natured Lena, dodging 
a flyi ig boot. 

“Just a little more for good measure,” cried Peggy as 
the bay mare turned the corner, and catching up a handful 
she flung it vigourously, not after the retreating vehicle as 
she had intended, but full in the face of Lucile Dalrymple 
who had turned and was re-entering the house. With a 
cry of pain the girl started back and then clapped her hands 
over one eye. 

“My dear one, are you injured?” cried Howard Francis 
in deep concern, and he quickly led her to a small ante-room. 
“ Let me see if I cannot cure the hurt.” 

A number would have followed them but a bridesmaid, 
after one peep within, pulled to the door. 

“ Leave them alone,” she said, “the young doctor knows 
how to heal the smart.” 

“ Yes,” replied her companion with a knowing smile, “ and 
they do say one wedding makes another.” 

That night tired Betty was all ready for bed when Lucile 
came into her room. She took her little cousin in her arms. 

“ Is your eye better?” asked the child. 

“ Oh yes, quite well. And, Betty, Peggy’s rice has 
brought some good luck already. My little injury startled 
Howard into a confession he intended to defer until he was 
more established in his profession. But I am glad he has 
made it and I am the happiest girl on all Manhattan Island.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


TRUE. 

“ Old dog Tray ever faithful 
Grief cannot drive him away, 

He is gentle, he is kind, 

And you’ll never, never find 
A better friend than old dog Tray 1 ” 

Old Song. 


“ Please let them be buff and blue, Aunt Prudence. 
Buff breeches and waistcoat and a blue coat will make me 
feel that I am at least wearing my country’s colours, though 
I am too young to carry a musket for her.” 

Before leaving on the expedition into Canada, Captain 
Melville had sent money to purchase new clothes for his 
son and their hue and style was the important subject 
under discussion. | 

“Very well, Winthrop. Thee is now old enough to i 
please thyself in such matters,” said Mrs. Halliday. “ But ! 
buff soils easily and my choice would be a good, serviceable, 
Quaker drab.” 

The boy made a wry face. “ I am not a Friend and do 
not see why I should dress like one.” 

So he had his way and three Sabbaths later, walked forth 
as blithe a little Continental as ever wore a cocked hat. 

Several of the leading brethren frowned when he marched 
into Meeting, but Rebecca Fox admired him intensely 
and whispered as they shook hands after the session. 

“ Thee looks like a veritable little soldier and thee is almost 


TRUE. 




127 


as handsome as Reginald Burnaby, who is called the hand- 
somest boy in Philadelphia.” 

“ Confound Reginald Burnaby,” muttered Winthrop, for 
there was a sting in the coy Quaker maiden’s compliment, 
and he had no deep affection for the son of the British 
Colonel who was neighbour to the Fox family and often cast 
sheep’s eyes at, or had a merry tilt of words with pretty 
little Rebecca. 

Josiah Halliday, however, scanned the gay uniform very 
soberly. “ Thee would have been wiser had thee bought 
cheaper attire and laid by a penny for a rainy day,” was his 
only comment. For the saving of money was becoming a 
monomania with the bookseller. 

But he had good reason, as was painfully proven when 
one day in the early part of January, Winthrop came home 
from school to find his aunt just recovering from a swoon and 
Bathsheba Scattergood administering a soothing draught. 

“ Oh, what is the matter ! Is auntie ill ? ” he enquired in 
alarm. 

Prudence hid her face with a low cry and it was the old 
Friend who told him, — “No, she has no physical ill. It is 
mental. Josiah has been taken to the Debtor’s prison in 
High Street.” 

“ What ! ” The lad stood aghast. Of such a misfor- 
tune he had never dreamed. “ How long will he have to 
stay there ? ” 

“ Until the indebtedness be paid, of course. Sometimes 
debtors sell themselves out to work for a term of years and 
so raise the amount, but I fear Friend Halliday is too old 
and too weakly for that.” 

Prudence shook convulsively, and the boy went down on 
his knees beside her. 

“ Dear aunt,” he whispered, “ we will both work hard 
and save all we can. Ere long we can set my uncle free.” 


i 2 S A LITTLE Daughter of the reVolutIofI, 

And his words were more consoling than all Bathsheba’s 
ministrations. 

So the eventful year of 1776 dawned sadly and drearily 
in Laetitia Court and the Winter and Spring dragged their 
weary length along — how wearily no one knows, to the poor 
prisoner in the stone “ Marshalsea ” — while stirring changes 
were taking place all throughout the colonies. 

Joe Lovering wrote jubilantly to Winthrop of the driv- 
ing out of the British from Boston and his own admission 
to the newly formed navy. 

“Granny was in a mighty to-do,” he said, “lest she 
should be shipped off to Nova Scotia like the Coffins and 
many other Tory folk, but our well-known patriotism saved 
her from that. As for mother, she is made of as good stuff 
as those old Spartan women Master Lovell used to prate 
so about. When I wanted to go with the army and was 
wishing I had a gun, — she agreed at once, saying — ‘Go, 
go ! beg or borrow a musket or find one. Some coward 
will be running away; take his and march forward. Only 
remember ! if you come back and have not acted like a 
man, I shall carry the blush of shame on my face to the 
grave.’ 

“ So, armed only with my fife, I made my way to Cam- 
bridge and cheered the men with Yankee Doodle and 
The White Cockade^ until a dying comrade willed me 
his firelock. Then I did a little execution with gun-powder 
and I can say without conceit, that not yet has my mother 
had cause to redden for me. Now, thanks to a good word 
from your father to those in authority, I have the promise 
of a berth in a new frigate just being built and hope to see a 
little action on the water, which suits me better than land. 

“ Wish you were going with me, old fellow, and how I have 
missed you and sweet Betty, no tongue can tell or goose- 
quill write.” 


True. 


1^9 

“Lucky Joe!” groaned Winthrop “And here I must 
stop, studying history, when 1 long to have some little part 
in the making of it, tending shop and taking care of Aunt 
Prudence. Am I not to be pitied, True?” And he 
turned to his dumb companion for sympathy as was often 
his wont. Affectionately, too, the Newfoundland re- 
sponded, looking up with his great liquid eyes and licking 
the lad’s hand as though to say, — “ You have noble enough 
tasks for a boy of thirteen, little master.” 

Again it was midsummer and the pinks and roses in the 
gardens budded and bloomed as radiantly as though the 
streets of the quiet city of Penn, were not rife with both 
Patriots and Royalists, and the Quakers were not holding 
many extra and protracted meetings, in order to learn the 
path in which it was most advisable for them to walk. 

“ Winthrop Melville, what think thee came to my ears 
last night 1 ” said Rebecca Fox, as they met one morning at 
the school gate. “ I heard Reginald Burnaby wager that 
he would own thy dog before the next new moon.” 

“ Indeed ! Does Master Burnaby propose to steal 
True ? For I know not how else he can get him.” 

“ Oh, no. He believes thee can be induced to sell him.” 

“ Then he counts without his host. My pet is not in the 
market.” 

So Winthrop was not unprepared, when the following 
week, as he was taking True for a swim, he encountered the 
English youth on the river bank and that young aristocrat 
demanded in a half insulting tone — “ Hey, there. Buff and 
Blue I Where did you get that beast ? ” 

The blood flew to his cheek, but he answered with toler- 
able civility, — “ If you are speaking to me, I raised him 
from a pup.” 

“ What will you take for him ? ” 

“ He is not for sale. Master Burnaby.” 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

“ Not if I offer you three guineas for him ? ” 

“ No, nor four. True is worth his weight in gold,” and 
the boy clutched his pet fast by the collar, as though afraid 
he might be torn from his side. 

But now Reginald’s manner became more conciliating as 
he urged, — “See here, Melville, don’t be a fool, I have 
taken a prodigious fancy to your dog and am ready to 
double the amount if necessary. So, take these and call it 
a bargain.” As he spoke, he drew six bright gold pieces 
from his pocket and held them out where they glittered 
temptingly in the July sunshine. 

“ Nay, nay. As I told you before, he is not for sale. 
Now go your way and let me go mine.” 

“ Miserable Yankee ! That I will not,” cried young 
Burnaby, whose hot temper could brook no opposition : “ I 
have set 'my heart on owning the brute and have a strong 
mind to send my father’s men to confiscate him, in the 
name of his blessed Majesty, King George. Such as you 
have no business with a valuable thoroughbred ! Though 
I warrant his meat is never paid for.” 

“ Never paid for ! What do you mean by that ? ” asked 
Winthrop, now quite white with passion. 

“Just what I say. It certainly looks suspicious when 
the nephew of a jail-bird can keep a big dog, while his 
uncle lies in the Debtor’s prison. His keep might help give 
honest men their dues.” 

“ Zounds, but such insults can only be avenged by 
blows ! ” screamed Winthrop, doubling his fists and rushing 
upon his tormentor who, however, drew back and waved 
him off, saying — “ Keep your distance, sirrah ! How dare 
you lay a finger on the son of a British officer and the 
grandson of a lord ! You shall be reported and locked up 
for this.” 

“ A fig for your lords and your king’s men ! I am an 


TRUE. 


131 

American, and Americans dare to fight, as you and your 
Tory kin would know had they been in Boston !” And the 
peppery little Yankee struck out boldly from the shoulder, 
while True, seeing his master’s warlike attitude, displayed 
his teeth in a low, ominous growl. 

Another moment and the hot-headed youngsters clinched, 
and would have been down on the ground in a rough-and- 
tumble fight, had not an aged Quaker suddenly appeared 
upon the scene and separated themo 

Peace, peace ! ” he commanded sternly, laying a hand on 
each. “ Is this a fitting time for quarrelling and brawling 
over private matters, when the country is trembling on the 
verge of a great crisis? Thee surely knows better, Win- 
throp Melville: while as for thee, Reginald Burnaby, thy 
father’s rank should restrain thee.” 

Winthrop’s eye still flashed, but the English lad with a 
glance at the dog, whose deep growls made him glad of any 
chance to withdraw from the encounter in an honourable 
manner, responded, “True, sir, I acknowledge I did forget 
myself for the moment. Noblesse oblige, of course. So, if 
my fiery antagonist is satisfied, I will bid you both good- 
day,” and having brushed the dust from his silk camlet suit 
and lace ruffles, this tiny sprig of nobility tossed his hand- 
some head and strutted off, with the haughty air he fancied 
so well became his station. 

Meanwhile, the old Friend gazed gravely into Winthrop’s 
flushed countenance. 

“What would Prudence Halliday say, did she know thee 
had been exchanging knocks thus publicly with a Royalist ?” 

“ I presume she would regret it, an^^ertainly I do not 
wish to add to her troubles,” replied the boy. “ But, Caleb, 
he insulted my uncle as well as myself. He called him a 
jail-bird, and I could not let my own kith and kin be so 
termed.” 

“Wrong, indeed, was that!” said Friend Scattergood, 


132 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 


his cheery face more solemn than Winthrop had ever seen 
it. “'But two wrongs never made a right ! Mayhap, Regi- 
nald Burnaby did not know that Josiah was unfortunate, 
and not wicked. He had much to contend with, and strug- 
gled long and bravely. When the hard times came, it was 
a cryel deed to consign him to the Debtor’s prison. It was 
the work of an enemy.” 

“Yes, and for so small a sum. It is monstrous large, 
though, to aunt and me, who are toiling to pay it off. We 
scrimp and scrape, and buy but little, yet the amount 
increases very slowly in the ‘debt box,’ and sometimes I 
almost fear Aunt Prudence will pine away and die before 
his freedom is accomplished.” 

“ Aye, aye,” sighed the old Quaker. “ The times are dark, 
and the hand of the oppressor is heavy in the land ! Who 
would know our peaceful town with the red coats turning 
everything topsy-turvy ? Bathsheba censures me con- 
stantly, but I cannot help praying that we may soon throw 
off this British rule. By the way, Congress has been con- 
sidering that very question for the past two days, and they 
tell me Thomas Jefferson has drawn up a prodigious fine 
declaration of independence. Thee knows I am bell-ringer 
at the State House, and I wish, Winthrop, thee could make 
it convenient to come there to-morrow, so when all is 
decided, thee can’st receive the first news from the door- 
keeper and give me the signal whether to ring the great 
bell or no.” 

“Why, Caleb, of course I will. It is a holiday, and I 
shall be glad to be of use to you.” 

“Thank thee, my son, I will pay thee a shilling for the 
job.” 

“ And do you think they will really dare to declare our 
independence ? ” 

“ Many say not, but I believe they will. There are great 
and wise men in yonder Council, and then the motto on 


TRUE, 


133 


the great bell I have rung so many years seems verily pro- 
phetic — ‘ Proclaim liberty throughout all the land, to all the 
inhabitants thereof !’ The Lord grant it may do it !” and 
the aged Friend’s countenance glowed with divine enthus- 
iasm. 

“ Oh, I hope so ; I hope so,” responded Winthrop, 
heartily. “ But now I must start for home. There is no 
time to give the dog his bath to-day. Good-bye. Come, 
True,” and with the Newfoundland at his heels, he scam- 
pered back to Laetitia Court. 

As they sat down to supper, he thought Mrs. Halliday 
was looking paler and more downcast than usual. 

“Has anything gone wrong. Aunt Prudence?” he 
enquired. 

“ Nothing new ; only the landlord has been here for the 
rent, and I have had to draw on the ‘ debt box ’ again. 
Every penny I take out seems like a step further away from 
your uncle. Oh, I wonder if we can ever save the price of 
his freedom !” and two tears rolled down her cheek. 

They seemed to fall right on Winthrop’s sensitive heart, 
but he answered, with more hopefulness than he felt : 

“ Of course, we shall. Cheer up, dear Auntie ! I have de- 
termined to leave school at the end of this quarter, and can 
then earn many a sixpence. Why, only just now, Caleb 
Scattergood promised me a shilling if I will wait at the 
State House door to-morrow, to give him the signal if inde- 
pendence be declared.” 

“ And if it is, poor Josiah will hear the ringing, and know 
it means liberty, but not for him.” And the unhappy 
woman sighed heavily, as she went into the shop to wait 
upon a customer. 

The lump in Winthrop’s throat seemed to prevent his 
swallowing, and he ate but a small portion of the savoury 
stew, giving, by far, the lion’s share to True, who devoured 
it with great gusto. 


134 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


As he licked the plate, Mrs. Halliday came back. '' That 
dog eats as much as two men,” she remarked, 

“ But he is such a dear, noble fellow, aunt, and I love 
him so ! ” 

“ I like him, also, but I wish his appetite was less ; ’’while 
through Winthrop’s mind flashed the young Britisher’s 
words, “ Such as you, have no business with a valuable thor- 
oughbred.” 

“Was it so? Was it his duty to sacrifice his beloved 
companion and playfellow for the sake of the uncle languish- 
ing under the shadow of the law?” He tried to put the 
thought away, but the idea seemed to haunt him all the 
evening, and made him wretched whenever his pet looked 
up into his face with his big, adoring eyes. 

“ I shall keep True in my room to-night,” he said, when 
ready to retire ; and happily, the great, shaggy creature 
stretched himself out beside the low poplar bed. 

It was long before the boy fell asleep, and then he awoke 
during the night, to hear Prudence Halliday sobbing bit- 
terly in the next room. Well he knew that she was think- 
ing of the man in the prison cell, and also, that the six 
guineas would appear to her like half-a-dozen seven-league 
strides towards her husband’s freedom. 

“ O, True, True ! I am afraid we shall have to part after 
all ! ” he groaned, slipping out on the floor and throwing 
himself down by the animal, which was the last remaining 
link betwixt him and his early home. “ Aunt Prudence 
has been so good to me, I cannot let her die of grief/’ 

And then and there, with his arms around the dog’s neck, 
he made up his mind that — although he could not endure 
another interview with overbearing Reginald — he would go 
to Colonel Burnaby, whom report declared to be “ a genial, 
whole-souled. Old England man,” and offer him the New- 
foundland on his son’s terms, 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE LIBERTY BELL. 


** That old State House bell is silent, 

Hushed is now its clamourous tongue, 

But the spirit it awakened, still is living, ever young ! 

When we greet the smiling sunlight. 

On the Fourth of each July ; 

We will ne’er forget the bellman who, betwixt the 
earth and sky; 

Rang out loudly Independetice, 

Which — please God — shall never die.” 

Liberty and Independence. 

Bright and warm to sultriness, dawned the fourth day of 
July, 1776, and Winthrop was astir betimes to don his suit 
of buff and blue, and be off to the State House^ He had 
no opportunity to consider his resolution of the night, for, 
early though it was when he bade his aunt and True 
good-bye ” and started forth, the streets were already 
filled with eager, excited groups, and a feeling of hushed 
expectancy seemed brooding over the entire town. 

“ I want to be in good season, so as to see the Congress* 
men arrive,” he thought, and he was glad to find Caleb 
there before him, seated in his little, high belfry, and ready 
to point out the illustrious Patriots as they came sauntering 
along, one by one. 

Look,” said the bellman, the first to be on hand is the 
i Virginian, Richard Henry Lee. He it was who introduced 
I the resolution ‘that these United Colonies are, and of right 
ought to be, free and independent States ; that they are ab- 


13^ ^ LttTLk daughter Of the kEVOLUTiOH. 

solved from all allegience to the British Crown, and that all 
political connection between them and the State of Great 
Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved. ’ ” And the 
old man rolled the words off his tongue as though he had 
learned them by heart, and they were pleasant to the taste. 

“ He looks like a fine gentleman,” commented Winthrop. 

“ He is all of that, every inch of him. But take particu- 
lar note of the tall man, with red hair ! The one who car- 
ries a roll of manuscript in his hand. That is Thomas 
Jefferson, and I dare say he is holding the very declaration 
they are now considering. Following him, is our good citi- 
zen, Benjamin Franklin, and yonder, just turning the corner, 
is ” 

“ Oh, I know ! I know ! ” screamed the boy, leaning far 
out of the little belfry window. “ It is Samuel Adams, — 

‘ Malster Sam ’ we used to call him in Boston. And bless 
me ! if there isn’t John Hancock !” 

“ To be sure it is. Dost thee not know that he is presi- 
dent of the Congress ? ” 

“ It is so good to see someone from home. I wonder if 
Miss Dorothy can be with him ; — Mrs. Hancock, I mean.” 

“ Some gossip told Bathsheba that his wife was here. 
They are stopping not very far from thee, in the old Slate 
House, the former home of William Penn, in Laetitia Court. 
The person walking with him is Charles Thomson, secretary 
of the Congress;” and then Caleb continued to name in 
quick succession as they appeared in sight, Roger Sherman, 
William Ellery, Charles Carroll and the rest of the now i 
famous fifty-six. “ A vastly fine, thoughtful set of men, are 
they not?” he concluded. 

“Yes, yes,” cried the boy quite carried away by the ex- 
citement of the moment. “ And I am certain they will do 
whatever is best for the country.” Then, descending, he • 
took up his station close to the State House door and 


LIEERTV EELL. 




patiently waited and watched, while Chestnut Street became 
one seething, surging mass of humanity, beneath the scorch- 
ing July sun. 

Peddlers hawked cakes and other small wares around, and 
some negroes tried to win a few pennies by playing on 
home-made guitars, manufactured out of gourds, but many 
wearied and wandered off to the Old London Coffee House, 
or the Indian King Tavern where “mine host” Biddle did 
a thriving business that morning. Tired children cried 
and women fainted from the heat and were borne away by 
kindly hands. Still our loyal little Yankee stuck to his 
post, though the hours seemed to drag on leaden wings and 
it was most depressing to hear on all sides — “ Never will 
they dare to sign such a paper ! Never in this world ! ” 

About noon there was a slight commotion and a deter- 
mined, four-footed creature came pushing its way through 
the crowd. With a cry of joy Winthrop recognised True, 
bearing in his mouth a little basket of luncheon prepared 
by Prudence Halliday and faithfully brought by the trusty 
animal. Quickly, the dog discovered his master and laid 
the burden at his feet and, as the boy patted the noble 
blackhead, he could not restrain a moan of “ Oh, dear, dear 
True, how can I ever bear to part with you ! If there was 
only some other way to help my poor uncle !” 

The sandwiches and ripe red cherries, however, proved 
most refreshing and soon revived his lagging spirits and, 
by the time True had trotted back with the empty basket, 
he was again the patriotic little American ready to forget 
his own private woes in suspense for the country’s good. 

And, at last, shortly after two o’clock, the great doors 
swung open and the keeper whispered a few words — words 
fraught with the fate of nations— in his ear. 

Then, uttering a triumphant cry and his eyes glittering 
with enthusiasm, Winthrop bounded out onto the pavement, 


138 A Little daVgUter oP the rePolc/t/ojl. 

clapped his hands and shouted ! “ Ring, Caleb, ring ! In^ 

dependence is declared ! ” 

Instantly, the old Quaker seized the rope attached to the 
massive bell and forth its ponderous tongue sent iron music 
floating on the soft summer air and proclaiming — “ Liberty 
throughout all the land, to all the inhabitants thereof.” 

The debtors heard it in their gloomy cells and bowed 
their heads and wept. Prudence Halliday heard it and 
thought, — “Oh, that it might also ring freedom to those in 
the grasp of the law ! ” 

Dorothy Hancock heard it and cried: “Bravo, John ! 
So you and your brother rebels have carried the day ! And 
now to drive the British lion out of our American jungles ! ” 

Rebecca Fox heard it and called through her neighbour’s 
fence — “ Listen to that, Master Red Coat ! Dost thee under- 
stand that we are no longer subjects of King George?” 
At which Reginald Burnaby laughed contemptuously and 
retorted: “ Let your high and mighty leaders declare all 
they like ! They will find it another matter to maintain 
their vaunted independence, with their rag-tag army, against 
his Majesty’s gallant regulars ! ” 

But what a thundering burst of acclamation went up from 
thousands of throats, while couriers and post-boys were 
sent scurrying in all directions with the gladsome tidings. 
Cannon roared, bonfires blazed, and by evening the City of 
Brotherly Love was one carnival of banquets, gay illumina- 
tions and mutual congratulations. 

Caleb Scattergood was so jubilant that he doubled Win- 
throp’s well earned shilling and, with a fleet foot, the lad 
sped home and threw the silver in his aunt’s lap. 

“ Thank thee, dear boy,” she said gratefully and the smile 
which shone on her face as she dropped the coins into the 
debt box, made his heart bound and he thought “If two 


THE LIBERTY BELL. 


139 


shillings can make her look so pleased, what would she say 
to six golden guineas ! ” 

“ But the best part, Aunt Prudence, is that we are now free 
and independent colonies with no king to say what we shall 
and shall not do. Father will rejoice, I know.” And, while 
sustained by the spirit of the occasion, he at once went 
out, fastened a chain around True’s neck and, after one 
little farewell moan, led him away to the Burnaby mansion, 
in Front Street. 

At the entrance he encountered a young lieutenant in a 
scarlet uniform, who was just leaving the house, and he in- 
formed him that Colonel Burnaby was not within. “ He 
has ridden out to the Barracks on important business and, I 
happen to know, is too much engaged to receive visitors.” 

There was no help for it, so, with a supreme effort, Win- 
throp asked: “Then — then, may I see Reginalci Burnaby? 
Yesterday, he offered to buy my thoroughbred Newfound- 
land. I refused ; but I am now ready to sell him, if he be 
of the same mind.” 

“ As a sacrifice on the altar of Liberty ?” sneered the of- 
ficer scornfully, but coming closer to the truth than he 
deemed. “ Well, you cannot conclude your bargain to- 
night, for, only five minutes ago. Master Burnaby started 
out to see and scoff at this ridiculous illumination of the 
city. You might call in the morning, if you so please, but 
it is pretty certain that after to-day, he will want no Yankee 
curs of any sort!' 

The tone, even more than the words, made Winthrop’s 
blood boil. “Take care,” he retorted, “the Yankee curs, 
you so despise, may soon nip all ‘ lobsters” heels.” 

Then, turning, he hurried quickly off, thinking that it 
was too hard lines and more than he could endure, to give 
up his precious pet to these saucy enemies ; and yet, who 


140 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


else did he know, in these uncertain times, who would pay 
six guineas for a creature, that, “ate as much as two men ?” 

“ Hello, Winthrop ! Come and help us make a bonfire,” 
shouted two of his schoolmates. 

But he shook his head and hastened on, scarcely heeding 
the decorations and merry tumult on all sides. 

At the door of the little book shop Prudence Halliday 
met him, her countenance glowing with a curious, uplifted 
look, and her manner betraying some new and strange ex- 
citement. 

“ What is it ? ” he almost gasped, fearing some fresh 
misfortune. 

For answer she flung open the door of the living room 
and there, in the soft light of the green mould candles, sat 
the familiar figure of a man. 

He looked, and rubbed his eyes, and looked again. 
Could it be ? Yes, there was no mistaking the rough, grey- 
streaked hair, the bent shoulders and almost shabby 
Quaker garb. 

“ Uncle Josiah ! ” 

“ Aye, lad ; back once more, like a bad penny,” and a 
thin, white hand was held out for him to shake. “ Thee 
art surprised, but this is a goodly night for Prudence and 
for me, since in honour of this birthday of American Liberty, 
our wise rulers have opened the Debtor’s prison and set all 
the prisoners free.” * 

“Huzza! huzza!” shrieked Winthrop, tossing up his 
hat. “I shall love that old State House bell as lono- as I 
live.” 

But it was not until they were gathered around the sup- 
per table that he realised all this unexpected action of Con- 
gress meant to him. Then, throwing down the spoon with 


* A historic fact. 


THE LIBERTY BELL. 


14I 

which he was eating strawberries and cream, he suddenly 
exclaimed, “ Hip, hip, hurray ! Now I won’t have to sell 
True ! ” 

“Sell True! What dost thee mean?” asked his aunt, 
and in a few brief words he told her of his recent intention 
and how it had been frustrated. 

When he closed, an appreciative tear glistened in Pru- 
dence’s eye and she stooped and kissed him, while Josiah 
said : “ Bless thee, my son, for the generous thought. Thee 
is a boy of whom thy father may well be proud. But glad 
am I, indeed, that the sacrifice is no longer required. Keep 
thy dog. He is a noble beast and shall be one of our family 
so long as we have a roof to cover us and a morsel of food 
upon our board.” 

So True was petted and caressed, and four days later — on 
the 8th of July — stood, adorned with a knot of the Conti- 
nental colours, beside his master who was one of the audi- 
ence assembled before the observatory, erected originally in 
order to observe the transit of Venus. 

And ever after, the urchins of the town loved to tell how 
Winthrop Melville’s dog wagged his tail and barked his 
canine approval when, from the platform of the frail struc- 
ture, Captain Hopkins of the Navy read aloud the newly 
framed Declaration of Independence to the cheering and 
enthusiastic multitude. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


Peggy’s prank. 

“ Your waiting-woman, Mistress Prue, 

Has more and deeper wit than you ; 

She knows precisely what to do.” 

R. H. Stoddard. 

The momentous year of 1776, proved almost as uncer- 
tain and depressing in New York as in Boston and Phila- 
delphia, everyone feeling that he was standing over a 
volcano which might break forth at any moment, and when 
in the month of April, Washington and Putnam brought 
their forces to defend the city against the attack threatened 
by the British, under General Howe, Madam Dalrymple 
became so nervous that she proposed retreating into the 
country. Her brother and daughters, however, persuaded 
her that it was far wiser to stay and protect their property, 
as long as possible. 

“ There is no absolute danger at present,” said Mr. Dan, 
“and I warrant his Majesty’s men will very quickly rout ' 
these treasonable rebels and establish themselves on 
Manhattan Island. Then as avowed Loyalists, we will be 
in a fine position here, much better and safer than in the ‘ 
suburbs, which are exposed to the ravages of cowboys, ^ 
skinners and a horde of marauders.” j 

So they remained and Betty pursued the even tenor of 
her school life at Mistress Joy’s where — as at home she 
had to keep her . tongue pretty tight between her teeth — 
she, Peggy Van Arsdale and a few other girlish Whigs 
would, on the sly, drink success to the “ Buff and Blues,” 


P£GGV*S PJ^AArJir, 


U3 

in raspberry cordial and orange-flower water, smuggled 
into the seminary for the purpose. At this time, too,%he 
constantly wore Washingtons cockade pinned inside of 
her frock and one day Lucile discovered it. 

“ Why Betty, what is this ? ” she demanded. 

Instantly, the little maid was on the defensive and, grasp- 
ing her treasure, cried almost wildly : “ It is mine. General 
Washington gave it me himself, and you shall not dare to 
take it from me.” 

“ Hush, hush ! I am sure I have no desire to do so,” 
replied her cousin ; sorely amazed by this vehement out- 
burst from one generally so mild and tractable. Then she 
added quietly and almost sadly, “ I only wish I had the 
right to wear one, too.” 

“ You do, Lucile ?” And now it was the child’s turn to 
open her eyes wide in astonishment. 

“Yes — no. Oh, I do not know what I wish ! Betty, I 
am torn two ways. Yonder is my dear and only brother 
fighting for his King, but I feel — I feel that the Americans 
have truth and justice on their side. Then, Howard 
Francis — my Howard — Englishman though he is, says if 
he followed his convictions, he should cast in his fortunes 
with the Continental Army.” 

“ Oh, good Doctor Francis ! I hope he will.” 

“ Don’t say that, dearie, don’t say that ! for it may mean 
heartbreak to me. Never I am sure, would my family 
consent to my marriage with a rebel. But list ! Not a 
word of this must be breathed to a living soul ; for not 
yet has he made up his mind.” 

“ I am only ten. Cousin Lucile, but you can trust me 
said Betty earnestly and sealing the promise with a loving 
kiss. For, “ the times that tried men’s souls,” also made 
children old beyond their years. 

But as the days glided on, the older girl waxed sadder 


t44 


A l/TTLJS £>At/GJ/T£I? OF THE REVOLUTIOH, 


and paler until, when independence was actually declared, 
she broke down and took to her bed for a week. 

“ I do not see what ails Lucile,” remarked her mother 
anxiously. “ Never have I known her so run down and 
poorly.” 

“ It is likely the hot summer weather, and the worry and 
excitement all around us,” replied Penelope. Perhaps, 
though, she had better take my place and go with you to 
visit the Colcrofts at Flatbush.” 

But to this Lucile would not agree. “ No,” she said, 
“ it was you. Pen, who were asked and I shall be better and 
more contented here with Betty and Uncle Dan, while we 
will have Peggy Van Arsdale come and stay a few days to 
brighten us with her merry tongue and funny ways.” 

So it was Miss Graham who, early in August, accom- 
panied their mother on her annual visit to some very old 
English friends living on Long Island, as this year Mr. 
Dan Dalrymple could not be induced to leave home, being 
hand in glove with alb the leading Tories of the city and 
constantly attending secret meetings. 

“ I am glad it is holiday time,” said Betty, when to her 
intense satisfaction, Peggy accepted the invitation to spend 
some days with them. “ Now we need do nothing but 
play and read and Doctor Francis says, he will take us all 
round the town to see the new fortifications, — McDougall’s 
and Coenties Battery and the breast-works down on Beek- 
man and Peck slip. I only wish we had a fine horse to ride, 
like that pretty young girl stopping in General Putnam’s 
family.” 

“Yes,” cried Peggy, “ isn’t she a beauty, and doesn’t she 
ride well? People wonder at the Putnams having her 
there, since she is the daughter of a British officer. But 
her father was alarmed for her safety, so they took her in 
out of the kindness of their hearts, as she is only fifteen, 













£j 



H|H|r •im 


I 

! 

I 2 

I 

I 


I 

I 




“BETTY OVERHEARD OXE OF THOSE BLOTS ." — /^Uge l^g. 


i 





PEGGY^S PRAATJir. 


H5 

three years older than I. Her name is Margaret Moncrieffe, 
and they say that elegant young aide-de-camp, Aaron Burri 
is head over heels in love with her.” 

What do two little curly pates like you know about 
such things ? ” laughed Lucile, coming in at the moment. 
“Now I want you to help beat eggs for the cake I am to 
make. Uncle Dan has invited some of his friends to supper 
to-night, so I hope it will be extra light. The gentlemen 
will have to put up with little Pinky’s waiting, however, for 
Nancy will be busy preparing the canvas-backs and green 
corn pudding, and, as you know, Chloe has gone as maid 
with mother and Pen out to Flatbush.” 

That very afternoon. Doctor Francis redeemed his prom- 
ise to take the little girls for a walk and point out the war- 
like defences which made New York like a fortified city. 

On the way they met little Miss Moncrieffe riding with 
Major Burr, and paused to admire the blithe young eques- 
trienne, and her fine seat in the saddle. 

“ She looks clever as well as comely,” remarked Betty. 

As too, they were passing one of the field-works on the 
East river, their attention was attracted by a company of 
men in semi-Indian garb. Their shirts, made with double 
capes and fringed along the edges and seams, were of 
coarse linen, and their breeches of buckskin. These were 
secured around the waist by belts of wampum in which 
were thrust tomahawks and skinning knives, while across 
their breasts they bore the motto, “ Liberty or Death.” 
Moccasins, also of buckskin, and ornamented with squaw- 
work done in beads and stained porcupine quills, covered 
their feet, and each soft round hat was adorned with a 
single feather. Shoulder belts supported the canteen, bullet- 
pouch and powder-horn. 

“ What comical, blood-thirsty looking creatures ! ” laughed 
Peggy. “ I should not like to meet them in the dark.” 


146 


A LITTLE DAVGLiTEk OE THE REVOLUTION. 


“ Neither, I fancy, would King George’s men,” said Doc- 
tor Francis, “ for those are the best marksmen in the Yan- 
kee army. They are most of them backwoods hunters from 
Pennsylvania and the Southern states. Just observe the 
fire-lock they use. It is the Swiss rifle, and far more deadly 
than the smooth bore musket which you Americans dub 
^ the Queen’s Arm,’ and we English call ‘ Brown Bess.’ ” 

Just then one of the grotesque riflemen eyed them 
closely, stepped forward, and with an unmistakable New 
England accent drawled, “ Lorsey massey ! I’ll vum, if that 
ain’t little Betty Melville from Bosting, large as life, and 
twice as nateral ! ” 

And to her companions’ intense surprise, in another mo- 
ment the dainty child was hugging this uncouth being, and 
laughing and crying almost hysterically. 

It’s Fly ! Our own dear, funny old Fly !” she exclaimed, 
“ if he is rigged out like a savage.” 

'‘Savage, do you gall it?” chuckled Fliakim, when, the 
first flush of astonishment over, he was presented to Doc- 
tor Francis and Peggy. “ Why, bless you, I’m as stuck up 
as a peacock over this ere Injun toggery. It was give to 
me ’cause I showed myself as good a sharpshooter as any 
o’ them crack shots from Virginny an’ the Carlinas. Gene- 
ral Washington thinks a heap of us riflemen, an’ they talk 
of sendin’us aout to Richmond Hill as special guard raound 
the headquarters thar.” 

“ It’s rather a pictursque costume, and I should imagine 
much more light and comfortable for soldiers than heavy 
cloth uniforms and stiff collars,” commented Doctor Francis. 

“You can bet it is. Them redskins aint sech dumb 
fools ! They know a thing or two it don’t deAv a white man 
any hurt to foller. On a long march their jerked venison 
an’ rockahominy can’t be beat. It’s easy to carry an’ drefful 
fillin’ fur the price. But I wouldn’t swap this rifle fur their 


PEGGY^S PRANK. 


147 


best bow an* arrow. Look, ain’t she purty? With one of 
these, thar ain’t a chap in our company who can’t plug nine- 
teen bullets out of every twenty, within an inch of the head 
of a tenpenny nail.” 

“ Well, Fly, it is monstrous nice to know you are in New 
York,” said Betty, “ and you must come to King Street and 
see me if ever you have the chance.” 

“Thanky, miss, I’d admire to, fur I’ve a plenty to tell 
you abaout Hitty an’ all the folks to hum. But law! thars 
that capting in a crimson sash abeckonin’ to me, so I must 
be goin’. Good-bye,” and with a wave of his bony hand, 
Fliakim started off faster than he had ever been known to 
move before. 

“It seems to me Fly is spryer than he used to be,” 
thought the little maid. “ Army life has stirred him up.” 

On reaching home, Lucile met them with a distressed 
face. “ I am in a sad quandary,” she said, “for Pinky has 
been taken with a regular ague fit. An hour ago she was 
shaking and shivering like an aspen leaf, and now is burn- 
ing up with fever, and a little flighty in her head. Who is 
to wait on the gentlemen at supper is more than I know, 
and Uncle Dan is so particular.” 

“ Oh, let me,” cried Peggy, “ I am a famous waitress and, 
as I am about the same size as Pinky, if I black my face and 
put on one of her frocks, Mr. Dalrymple, with his near-sighted 
eyes, will never know the difference.” 

“ Nonsense, you ridiculous elf ! You could never carry it 
off,” said Doctor Francis. 

“Just you wait and see ! Come and help me, Betty ; we 
will show these doubting folks what a trim pickaninny can 
be made out of a Dutch girl.” 

And twenty minutes later, the mischievous witch re-ap- 
peared, her face, neck, and hands stained a rich chocolate 
brown^ her short crop of black h^ir in tight little kinks all 


148 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

over her head, and arrayed in a clean linen short gown and 
linsey-woolsey petticoat, belonging to Cook Nancy’s half- 
grown and rather lazy daughter. 

“ Please, missus, is dis nigger spruce enough to sarve de 
fine British gemmans?” 

Lucile laughed until she cried. “ Nobody but Madcap 
Peggy would ever have thought of such a thing !” she ex- 
claimed. “ I only trust your mother will not be annoyed.” 

“ O, no. She is used to my capers. Naught will she 
do, but shake her head and sigh : ‘Another of Margaret’s 
pranks ! Is it that her wisdom teeth are never going to 
sprout !’ For my part I shall find it a fine, jolly lark.” 

So, being at a loss what else to do. Miss Dalrymple had 
to let the roguish girl have her way and if “ Uncle Dan ” 
bestowed a thought upon the tiny waitress, it was only to 
wonder at the unusual nimbleness and deftness of the slow 
and heavy Pinky. 

As for his guests, they all appeared engrossed with some 
subject weighing heavily on their minds and though little of 
import was said, a few, low words dropped here and there 
and sundry expressive gestures, made bright, little Peggy 
prick up her ears and put on her thinking cap. 

When then, she had set Lucile’s cake and a dish of fruit 
beside the wine on the table, and was leaving the room for 
the last time, she came to a standstill just without, at hear- 
ing one of the company say — 

“ Now, gentlemen, is the time to drink success to the 
loyal scheme we are to plan to-night ! I give you the health 
of our sovereign liege, King George, and sudden death to 
his arch enemy, G. W. !” 

The next instant, the door behind her was slammed vio- 
lently shut and bolted on the inside. 

Betty, sitting on the stairs waiting to laugh with Peggy 
oyer the well completed masquerading prank, was startled 


PEGGY^S PRANK, 


149 


by a small, dark figure suddenly precipitating itself upon 
her, gasping in frightened but determined tones, — Betty 
Melville, if you are a real, little patriot, come along, quick ! 
Those men in there have some wicked Tory mischief on 
foot and you must find out what it is.” 

But Peggy, how — how — can I ?” 

“ I will show you,” and almost dragging the child to a 
pantry connected with the dining-room closet by a square 
sliding window, through which dishes were passed, she 
whispered : “You are so small and slight you can crawl in 
there. Do so at once, and listen — listen to every word, 
those treacherous red coats say. But, oh, pray be careful 
not to make a bit of noise or we are lost ! ” 

Only vaguely comprehending what was required of her, 
Betty obeyed and there, crouched on a shelf among the 
china and delft ware, overheard one of those plots — of 
which there were so many during the revolutionary war — 
against the life of the Commander-in-Chief. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


A DISH OF PEAS. 


“ Cursed be the hand that fired the shot, 

The frenzied brain that hatched the plot, 

Thy country’s Father slain ; 

Be thee, thou worse than Cain ! ” 

R. H. Stoddard. 

Aghast with horror, Betty’s big brown eyes gazed into 
the equally frightened orbs shining in her companion’s 
dark-stained face. 

“They are going to kill him,” she sobbed; “going to 
kill that good, brave General Washington.” 

“ But how ?” demanded Peggy impatiently. 

“ By poison — poison mixed in a dish of green peas, 
which they say is his favourite vegetable.” 

When and where ? Did you hear that ? ” 

“ Yes — I’m not sure, — they all talked so at once ; I think, 
though, it is to be day after to-morrow, at Richmond Hill.” 

“ How dreadful ! Oh, dear, oh, dear ! Whatever shall 
we do ! What is it, that two little slips of girls such as we, 
can do ?” 

The clock ticked away three minutes of wondering, 
anxious silence and suspense. “ We must tell Lucile,” 
said Betty, at last. 

“What? Why, Betty Melville, you are mad! Tell a 
Tory like Miss Dalrymple, that her own uncle is planning 
this deed ! She would lock us in our room and likely 
rejoice at the death of such an enemy to the King.” 





A DISH OP PEAS. 


151 

I don’t believe she would,” and the child shook her 
golden head sagely. Anyway, we must tell Lucile. She 
and Doctor Francis will know what to do.” 

In spite, then, of Peggy’s fears and protestations, she 
insisted upon going and relating to her cousin the state 
secret that had come to their ears in such a curious manner. 
And to the small visitor’s unbounded astonishment, Lucile 
appeared as distressed as they were. 

“ Never would I have thought it of Uncle Dan,” she 
sighed sadly. “ But now, children, show how quiet you can 
keep you little chattering tongues.” 

Trinity’s bells had long since chimed the hour of nine, 
when Doctor Francis, poring over a ponderous medical 
work in his little office, was startled by a tapping on the 
closed and barred window shutters outside. 

“ It must be a sudden case of illness that summons me 
at such an unwonted hour,” he thought, as he hastened to 
open the door. What was his surprise, then, to behold a 
cloaked and hooded female form, which on throwing back 
its wrappings revealed the face and figure of Lucile 
Dalrymple, looking strangely white and drawn. 

“ My darling ! what has happened ! ” he exclaimed. 

“ Hush,” hissed the girl. “ I have come for a word with 
you, alone; while Nancy — who was my escort — waits with- 
out. Is there any danger of eavesdropping ears ?” 

“ None whatever. Step inside.” 

And for fifteen minutes, while the negress sat on the 
doorstep, grumbling and growling over “the misery in her 
back from bein’ dragged out at such an outlandish time o’ 
night ; ” her mistress was closeted in close converse with 
Doctor Francis. 

“ prank seems Providential, does it not ? ” were 

her parting words ; “ and remember, if you succeed in warn- 
ing General Washington, tell him, that if he needs someone 


152 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

on whom to rely, among the sharpshooting riflemen is a 
most trusty Yankee, one Fliakim Sparhawk. At least, so 
says our wee wise Betty.” 

“ Bless her bonny heart and sensible little head ! Rest 
assured, too, dear one, that all in my power I will do ; even 
as though I were an avowed patriot.” 

The next three days were long and anxious ones, indeed, 
to the three maidens in King Street. Mr. Dan w^as much 
from home and never dreamed that the scheme on which 
he and his Tory coterie set such high hopes was being 
thwarted by the innocent, demure little damsels, who warmly 
welcomed him on each return and eagerly enquired if any 
fresh news was stirring in the town. The morning after 
the fateful date, however, saw him very morose and low in 
his spirits; and the girls’ hearts rose accordingly. 

Nothing was seen or heard of Doctor Francis until, 
toward the close of the third day, he made his appearance, 
in company with the sharp-shooter Fly, who was remarkably 
well shaven and shorn. 

“ It’s all right ; all right !” he assured them, the moment 
they were ushered into the drawing-room and convinced 
that the coast was clear. “ His Excellency is as safe and 
sound as a trivet, and sends you his most grateful and 
fervent thanks.” 

“ Aye,” chuckled Fliakim, “ the doctor got thar in the 
nick of time, an’ G. W. is worth ten dead men yet.” 

'‘Oh, do tell us all about it,” begged Lucile. “ Uncle is 
out, the servants busy below, and you may speak quite 
freely.'’ 

“ Well,” began Doctor Francis, “early on the morning 
after your visit to my office, I hied me off to Washington’s 
headquarters. At first, the sentry was not inclined to 
admit me, but a few persuasive words, backed up by a silver 
argument, finally caused him to change his mind and I was 


A DISH OF PEAS. 


153 


conducted into the General’s presence. I tell you, Lucile, 
there is a man for you ! Calm, diornified, with iron nerves. 
He received me most courteously, hearkened attentively to 
my communication and then said, ‘ My friend, I thank you : 
your fidelity has saved my life, to what reserve the 
Almighty knows ! But now, for your safety ! I charge 
you to return to your house and let not a word of what 
you have related to me pass your lips. It would involve 
you in certain ruin ; and heaven forbid that your life 
should be forfeited or endangered by your faith to me.’ ” 

“ Oh, Heaven forbid, indeed !” cried Lucile, covering her 
face. 

“ Then he continued, ‘ I will take the necessary steps to 
prevent, and, at the same time, discover the instrument of 
this wicked device.’ Of course I mentioned no names and 
how he made his investigation Fliakim will inform you.” 

“ Yas, fur it was I who was called upon to dew a bit of 
playactin’ ! ” drawled Fly. “ I was considerable scared when 
an orderly came an’ tole me the Gineral wanted a word 
with me alone, an’ my heart never stopped a thumpin’ until 
he had explained the hull cussed plot an’ axed me did I think 
I could rig myself up an’ pass off for a woman. But I larfed 
an’ said I’d try. So I hed my chin shaved, borryed a short- 
gown an’ petticoat an’ done my hair up in a knot. Wal, 
Betty ! ef I wasn’t the very spit an’ image of Mehitable I’ll 
be eat for a flounder! Then, Washington posted me off 
to the kitchen, as assistant to the cook, to fix vegetables an’ 
keep a weasel’s eye on whatever might happen. 

“I was sot to peelin’ ’taters but I felt drefful queer with 
all that calico raound my heels an’ I was jest thankin’ the 
Lord I wasn’t born a woman an’ hed to wear petticoats, 
when another guard — but not a rifleman — poked his head 
in at the door. He was a nice lookin’ young chap, who 
kinder spied around an’ then went off. But, presently back 


1^4 ^ LITTLE DAt/dHTEE OF THE REVOLVTtOH. 

he came, an’ loungin’ up to the fire remarked, it was cool 
fur the season, an’ portended to be warmin’ his hands. As 
he did so, I see him sprinkle some sort o’ powder in a pot 
o’ peas that was swingin’ from a hook over the coals ; at the 
same time, tew, he fell to shakin’ an’ shiverin’ an’ went out 
with a face on him like skim milk. You bet I made tracks, 
in a hurry, for the Gineral’s quarters, an’ reported that Pri- 
vate Harold was the guilty man.” 

“ What did Washington say?” asked Peggy, now quite 
breathless with interest and excitement. 

“ Oh, he looked sorry enuff. * What, Harold !’ he cried 
out! ‘can it be possible, so young, so fair and gentle! 
Never would my suspicion hev fallen on him!’ Then, 
turnin’ to me he said : ‘ Thank ye, my fine fellow, you hev 
done your duty well 1 Now go join your comrades, an’ be 
secret ! which I did as fast as I could strip off that blasted 
female toggery.” 

“ The rest,” spoke up Doctor Francis, “I heard from one 
of Harold’s own company. He says there was quite a 
party at dinner, and the Commander-in-Chief sat at the 
head of the board with General Gates on his right hand 
and General Wooster on his left. He looked sober, but 
held his peace until they were just about to commence, then 
lifting up his voice he said: ‘Gentlemen, I must request 
you to suspend your meal for a few moments. Let the 
guard attend me.’ 

“ Everyone was amazed, but the men on duty that day 
were summoned and formed in line at one end of the apart- 
ment. Then Washington, helping himself to a spoonful of 
peas and fixing his eyes sternly upon Harold, asked : ‘ Shall 
I eat of this vegetable?’ The youth turned ghastly pale 
and stammered, — ‘I don’t know.’ 

“‘Shall I eat of these?’ again demanded the General, 
raising some on his knife. 



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A DISH OF PEAS, 


^55 


“With that the young soldier trembled more than ever 
and made a gesture as though to stop him. But that 
there might be no doubt, a chicken was brought and given 
some of the peas. It ate and, almost immediately dropped 
and rolled over dead. This was conclusive.” * 

“ And what became of the poor young man ? ” asked 
Betty, the sympathetic tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“ Oh, he,” replied Fliakim, “fell down in a swoon an’ I 
see him carried out to the guard house. Guess he’s thar 
naow a-repentin* of his sins. Lorsey, massy, though, ain’t I 
tickled that it was an old speckled hen swallowed that pisin 
stead of our Gineral Washington !” 

“Yes, for he is a noble gentleman,” said Doctor Francis 
“and the very one to command a great army. But my 
little ladies, suppose you take Mr. Sparhawk down stairs to 
refresh the ‘inner man,’ while I have a few minutes conver- 
sation with Miss Dalrymple.” 

As the door closed upon the two, the physician took a 
seat beside his sweetheart. 

“ Dear Lucile,” he whispered, “ I trust you will bless my 
determination with your approval. It has been a hard 
struggle to decide that I ought to take up arms against my 
native land. But this interview with Washington has con- 
firmed my convictions. From this day, I, my sword and 
whatever medical skill I possess, is at the service of the 
American leader and the Patriot army.” 

“ O, Howard, Howard ! Then what is to become of me ! ” 
And half fainting the maiden sank into his arms. 

One month, later, however, the young Englishman, clad 
in the Continental uniform of buff and blue, fought bravely 
and well at the Battle of Long Island and, when the British 


* The main facts regarding this plot against the Commander-in-Chief are historical. 
Washington was warned by a man named Francis who l^eard it through a young girl of 
New York. 


156 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

entered and took possession of New York, he was far away, 
an outcast and fugitive from home and friends. 

“ What, Lucile ! Not glad to welcome your brother back 
again?” cried the gallant young lieutenant, Fred Dalrym- 
ple, whom the triumph of war had landed once more in the 
bosom of his family. “ I thought you would be the first to 
wave the Cross of St. George, and receive his Majesty’s 
troops with open arms !” 

“So she would be, Fred, so she would be, but for one 
dastardly turncoat growled Uncle Dan, — “ Howard Fran- 
cis has joined the rebels, and for his sake she, too, is ready 
to renounce King and country.” 

“ Never with my consent,” declared Madam Dalrymple, 
firmly. “ Lucile’s betrothal to Doctor Francis is at an end, 
and I have forbidden her to hold any intercourse with him 
whatsoever. To think of my child wedding a traitor ! ” 

And this bitterness of the old lady’s was increased four- 
fold when, soon after, New York was swept by fire up 
Broadway and all along the water front, from Whitehall 
Slip to beyond the Bear Market, . (about where Barclay 
Street is to-day) and it was rumoured on all sides that it 
was the Americans who applied the torch. 

“ But it wasn’t ; I know it wasn’t,” sobbed Betty, earnestly, 
as she watched the flames from the gallery on top of the 
house. “ Never would they be so cruel and wicked as to 
burn beautiful Trinity Church and turn so many poor peo- 
ple out of their homes,” 

“ Of course they did not do it replied Peggy Van Ars- 
dale, heartily, and history, at a later date, has proved their 
childish confidence to be correct. 


CHAPTER XX. 


BETTY TO MERCY. 


“ The soldier, tir’d of war’s alarms, 

Exults to feast on beauty’s charms, 

And drops the spear and shield ; 

But if the brazen trumpet sound, 

He burns with conquest to be crown’d. 

And dares again the field.” 

John Andr6. 

New York, 19, March, 1780. 

My dear Mercy : 

Who would believe that nearly four years have passed, 
since I writ you a line or had one from you. But the carry- 
ing of a letter has been so difficult, and the postage so high, 
that not often have I taken my quill in hand or practised 
the epistolary writing in which we were so carefully drilled 
at Mistress Joy’s. But now. Jack Van Arsdale, the sailor 
brother of my beloved friend Peggy, tells me the schooner 
on which he sails is like to touch at Boston, and has offered 
to bear a packet thither. So I purpose scribbling you a 
whole budget of news. 

Can you realise, Mercy, that I am almost fourteen, while 
you must have already celebrated your sixteenth birthday ? 
Not but that the years have been long and eventful enough, 
with all the trouble and bloodshed which has rent the coun- 
try, as well as our hearts in twain ! It is months since we 
heard aught of my poor father, and know not whether he 
be on earth or in heaven. 


158 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

Winthrop is still with our uncle and aunt in Philadelphia, 
and is of vast assistance to them. But he chafes at having 
to guard his tongue with the Quakers, almost as much as I 
am obliged to do among my Tory relatives, whom I should 
much dislike to offend, as they are ever good and kind to 
me. Not all Quakers, though, are so given to peace, and 
Win sometimes has a chance to relieve his feelings to the 
bellman of the State House — Caleb Scattergood — who 
would surely shoulder a musket and march away with Clay- 
ton’s Rangers, but for the influence of his wife — who abides 
strictly by the “ Testimony,” and the “ Discipline,” what- 
ever they may be. A veritable Angel of Mercy, however, 
did this old Friend show himself at the Battle of German- 
town, venturing into the very thick of the fight around Mr. 
Chew’s house, to carry water to the thirsty, help to the 
wounded, and comfort to the dying. 

My brother, too, seems to find much pleasure in the com- 
panionship of a little “ Thee and Thou ” maiden, named 
Rebecca Fox, and his epistles ring with her sayings and do- 
ings. She, likewise, is a red-hot patriot, and often has to 
go and put her head up the chimney and hurrah for Wash- 
ington and Gates. It appears that when the British had 
possession of Philadelphia, several red coats were quartered 
in her father’s house who, to tease her, threatened to 
“ search the little black-eyed rebel’s chest of drawers.” • 

“ And what dost thee expect to find there ?” she enquired. 

“ Oh, treason,” they declared, “ we seek for treason.” 

“ Then see,” said Rebecca, “ thee may save thyself the 
trouble. Thee can find plenty of that at my tongue’s end.” 

Winthrop thought this so good an answer, that he told it 
me in a letter sent by special messenger, together with a 
small American flag, such as was recently made there by a 
Mrs. Betsy Ross, and adopted by the Continental Congress 
as the banner of the United Colonies. Always did dear 


BETTY TO MERCY. 


159 


Daddy say that some day we should have a flag of our own. 
Have you seen one? It is so pretty, red and white stripes, 
and a circle of thirteen stars on a blue ground. I only 
dared show it to my Cousin Lucile, and now keep it snugly 
hidden away. 

Poor Lucile ! She is so changed since her betrothed. 
Doctor Francis, joined our American patriots and Aunt 
Dalrymple forbade her holding any communication with 
him whatever. It was hard when he was away fighting 
with Washington’s army, but doubly hard when he was cap- 
tured and brought right here into the city — a prisoner on 
parole. He is free to walk the streets and time and again 
has attempted to see her and has stopped me, begging that 
I would bear a message to my cousin. But Lucile will not 
disobey her mother. Never have I known a girl with so 
high a sense of honour. 

“ When Howard wants me to go to him,” she says, “ I 
will choose between him and my family but, until then, 
there shall be nothing underhand betwixt us.” 

But I know you will want chiefly to hear concerning your 
old friend Betty. “ Well, dear, I was frightened enough when 
the British frigates, the s.nd Phoenix, sailed up the Hud- 
son firing broad-sides upon New York and still more at the 
burning of 493 houses, three years ago last September. But, 
fortunately, our part of the city escaped, for which we were 
devoutly thankful. The English troops camped out in a 
veritable canvas town and certainly the flames did not 
soften their hearts, as was shown by the extreme measures 
they took with the young patriot, Nathan Hale, who was 
captured and brought in the very evening after the great 
fire. Uncle Dan scolded me for crying over a ‘'confounded 
spy,” but I could not help it, he was so brave and so de- 
voted to Washington and his last words — “ I regret that 
I have only one life to lose for my country ; ” were so 


l6o A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION 

pathetic. Penelope declares that, according to the laws of 
war he had to die, but, if so, that cruel jailor Cunningham, 
might, at least, have allowed him the clergyman and the 
Bible he requested, and need not have torn up his farewell 
letters to his mother and his sweetheart. 

General Putnam was not so harsh with the young girl, 
Margaret Moncrieffe, of whom I think I wrote you in my 
last epistle. For Mercy, that clever maiden turned out to 
be a spy — a little British spy in petticoats — and it was her 
admirer. Major Burr, who first discovered that the flowers 
she painted so prettily to send to her friends had faint lines 
below them, showing the plan of the new defences and fort- 
ifications at West Point, where she and the Putnams were 
then stationed. It was proved, also, that she was in constant 
communication with Governor Tryon who, at that time, made 
his head-quarters on The Duchess of Gordon^ a very fine 
vessel at anchor off Staten Island. They at once packed 
the young lady off to her father, in New Jersey, but she still 
lives to work more mischief with her bright eyes and ready 
wit. 

Of course a great many Whigs have left New York, but 
the Van Arsdales remain in their homestead and the Tory 
folk are all as gay as though there was no war at our gates. 
The two last winters have been the coldest that ever I 
knew ; the bay was frozen over for forty days, and hundreds 
of people crossed on the ice to and fro from Brooklyn and 
Pavonia. The difficulty of obtaining wood and coal made 
this very trying and we suffered considerably ; while pro- 
visions have been almost as scarce as fuel. 

Nevertheless, the belles and beaux enjoy no end of 
dancing, dining, dicing, and amateur theatricals,, and how they 
do dress ! Why, some of the macaronis’ wear two watches ; 
and dinner-parties are given at half-past four o’clock, with 
closed shutters and hy candle-light. We had one such at 


Betty To MErcY. 


i6i 

Christmas ; and oh, Mercy, I know now what a happy, holy 
festival that is and love it as well as though I had been born 
in Old England instead of New. 

Do you remember the day we listened to the carol at the 
door of King’s Chapel and Miss Coffin carried us off to 
feast on gingerbread and gave us our first Christmas gift ? 
She is now in New York and I saw her not long since at 
the John Street Theatre; when she told me that Madam 
Davenant died during their exile in Nova Scotia — died, she 
verily believes, of homesickness and a broken heart. 

This theatre is a little red building standing back from 
the street and approached by a covered way. The British 
officers made it into a play-house and often enact dramas 
there. Occasionally, Lucile and Fred take me with them 
and I did so like the burlesque of Tom Thumb, Shake- 
speare’s “Macbeth,” and a comedy called the “ Beaux ’ 
Strategem.” The best actor, I think, is Major John Andre 
who is a real Adonis, with his big hazel eyes and brown 
curls. Truly, Mercy, he is a dear, lovable, young man if he 
is a red coat, and 1 always try to see him when he comes to 
the house. He takes me on his knee and tells me all the 
nice things he can think of about the Royal family, though he 
acknowledges that, at times. King George is as mad as a 
March hare ; and describes all the lovely ladies and gallant 
knights in the Mischianza, — a grand tournament and fete 
which he helped to get up in Philadelphia. Then he has 
painted my portrait, for he is an artist as well as an actor, 
a poet and a soldier, while he can play the harpsichord in a 
manner to make you weep. He and I are monstrous friends, 
though he often twits me because I am such a staunch “ little 
rebel ” and like to slip over to Peggy’s and help spin flax 
for the shirts to be given the men in the American army. 
He is a pet with all the grown-up girls but so brave and 


i 62 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 


manly withall, that Sir Henry Clinton has made him adju- 
tant-general. 

You will think I am captivated by a merry eye and a ready 
tongue, but Major Andre’s heart is as kind as his face is 
beautiful and his spirits gay. One little incident I must 
tell you, which was related to us by some acquaintances who 
came in the other day from their country-seat on the 
Hudson River. It seems a foraging party made an in- 
road upon the settlement near them, and a company of 
Whigs turned out to oppose the men in quest of provisions. 
Among these were two young boys who, together with a 
few farmers, were taken prisoners and brought into the 
City. The little fellows were stricken with terror and, at 
sight of the dreadful prison (which is horrible) with its 
gloomy walls, grim guard and the crowds of haggard, 
wretched creatures at the iron windows, they fell to sobbing 
and wailing as though they were babies of five instead of 
lads in their teens. However, it did some good, for a richly 
dressed officer observed them, and stepping up took them 
by the hand and enquired : “ My dear boys, what” makes 

you cry?” They stammered out that they were skeery, 
and homesick, and wanted to go back to their mothers and 
sisters.” 

“ Well, well, my children ! ” he said, “ don’t cry, don’t cry any 
more.” Then, bidding the soldier who had them in charge 
await his return, he turned on his heel and hurried away. 

Drying their tears the small urchins asked their jailor who 
that was. “ Why,” he replied angrily, “ that is Major Andre, 
the adjutant-general of the army, and you may thank your 
stars that he saw you, for I suppose he has gone to the 
General to beg you off, as he has done many of your — 
rebel countrymen.” 

Sure enough, ere long he came back, his countenance 
glowing with gladness and called out — “ Well, my boys, I’ve 


BETTY TO MERCY, 


163 


good news for you ! The General has given you to me to 
dispose of as I choose, and now you are at liberty. So run 
home to your fond parents and be good boys, mind what 
they tell you, say your prayers, love one another, and God 
Almighty will bless you.” * 

Was not that a rare fine deed for a red coat ? And this 
is but one of many little acts which have made him beloved 
and admired by people on both sides. 

Last year the small-pox raged in New York, and so many 
scarlet danger flags were hung out on the houses that Aunt 
Dalrymple despatched Lucile and me off to Flatbush, as 
the Colcrofts very amiably invited us there to be inoculated. 

It was rather an uncomfortable month, but we had the 
kine-pox thoroughly, and now have no more fear of that in- 
fection. 

But the latest scare is a sort of malignant fever, or 
“Shaking Sickness,” as some call it. Penelope had a slight 
attack, and had to be well dosed with lemon juice and the salts 
of worm-wood. I trust our share of it will stop with her. 
Mistress Joy, being loyal to the King, continues her school, 
though her pupils are greatly reduced. I attended pretty 
regularly until this winter, but Mynheer Van Arsdale took 
Peggy away as soon as General Howe set foot on 
Manhattan Island. She studies by herself at home, but we 
frequently go together to see Sir Henry Clinton and his 
mounted troops take their daily gallop up Broadway, to the 
fields and back. This British Commander is a fat, pudgy 
little person, with a full face and a big nose. But his man- 
ners are very reserved and courtly. 

Lord Cornwallis, who often rides with him, is likewise 
short but not so stout. He would be handsome, but for 
the constant blinking of his left eye. I fancy the looks of 


* A true incident. 


1 64 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

the big German General Knyphausen, he is so soldierly, 
and so is Colonel Abercrombie, but the latter is badly pit- 
ted by the small-pox. 

The regulars certainly present a brilliant spectacle. 
Peggy admires most the grenadiers from Anspach with 
their towering black caps and the gaudy Waldeckers wear- 
ing cocked hats, edged with yellow scallops ; but I like the 
Highlanders best. These are so picturesque in their tar- 
tans and kilts, their short red coats, low checked bonnets, 
bright stockings and bare knees. We never, too, can help 
laughing at the Hessians, they look so fierce in their tower- 
ing brass-fronted caps, with their mustachios dyed with the 
same blacking which polishes their shoes, and their hair 
plastered with tallow and flour and twisted into a long whip. 
Their uniform is not unlike that of the Continentals, being 
a blue coat, yellow vest and breeches, and black gaiters. 
Together with the English red coats, they are a gay sight, 
and I vastly fear that our poor men, in threadbare apparel 
and blanket overcoats, can never be so imposing. 

Better, though, than all these should I delight to behold 
the charming young Frenchman, La Fayette, who has come 
across seas to aid the cause of liberty. No doubt Joe has 
had this pleasure, for I hear the Marquis crossed in the 
frigate Alliance, on which Win writes me your brother has 
shipped and is seeing plenty of action. Always do I recall 
Joe so fondly, and you must give him Betty’s love when you 
meet. 

Do you know the whereabouts of our faithful, old Me- 
hitable? It is long since we heard of her or Fliakim. 

My best respects to your mother and to Granny Lover- 
ing. Trusting I have not wearied you with this lengthy 
effusion, 

Your affectionate friend, 

Elizabeth Melville. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


LUCILE. 


“ A sorrowful woman said to me, 

‘ Come in and look on otir child 1 ’ 

I saw an angel at shut of day, 

And it never spoke — but smiled.” 

Thomas B. Aldrich. 

It was Easter Sunday, and as bright and radiant as the 
Queen of Festivals ought to be, in spite of the cloud of in- 
fection hanging over the City, for the malignant fever had 
not been easily stamped out, and dread was turning timid 
hearts faint with fear. It waxed more and more virulent, 
and hundreds fell victims, slain suddenly and swiftly. 

Still, from St. Paul’s Chapel, standing alone, one stead- 
fast landmark among the ruins and debris left by the con- 
flagration of four years before, poured a goodly congregation 
of fashionable folk, at the close of morning service. Lucile 
Dalrymple, looking fair and dainty, though somewhat pale 
and fragile, in her gown of sheer sprigged lawn and new 
blue bonnet, stepped forth, with Betty at her side, nodding 
languidly to Alida Coffin who, in showy half-mourning, 
stood chatting to Captain Burnaby and his handsome son 
Reginald — they having found it best to leave the patriotic 
Quaker town for the British metropolis : to Major Andre 
beautiful as a young god in his rich attire, with the sunshine 
glinting on the wavy brown hair brushed straight back 
from his broad intellectual brow : to the gracious young 
matron who had been Lena Van Cortland : and to a host of 
officers, citizens and gaily garbed belles. 


l66 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

In striking contrast, then, to the worshippers in brave, 
braw” Easter clothes, was the plainly dressed gentlernan 
who emerged from behind one of the heavy pillars which 
support the portico and stood almost directly in their path, 
with uncovered head. He spoke not a word, but there was 
a world of pleading in his eyes. 

“ It is Doctor Howard Francis,” whispered Betty. 

Such a wave of love, and tenderness swept over Lucile’s 
features that the countenance of the young man lightened, 
but the next instant she had gained control of herself and, 
with only a slight bow, passed on. 

“ O, cousin, why not give him just one word,” said Betty. 
“ He looks so miserable ! ” 

And am not I miserable, too ! ” cried the girl, putting 
her hand to her forehead. “ Desperately miserable ! Every 
morning when I wake I wonder how I can live through the 
day. But — ah — ” reeling backward — “ I believe I am ill ! 
Such a deathly faintness, and everything seems swimming 
around me ! ” 

“ Mercy, Lucile, do not swoon here in the street ! ” 
screamed Betty, thoroughly alarmed, and, throwing her arm 
about the tottering maiden’s waist, she gently supported 
her home, and laid her on a couch. 

At sight of her young sister, Penelope Graham’s face 
almost rivalled hers in pallour, while when terrible convul- 
sive quivers shook the delicate frame from head to foot, she 
turned away, gasping — “ Oh my God ! It is the fever ! 
And seized rn the very worst way ! ” 

Madam Dalrymple caught the words, and with a low cry 
of despair fell on her knees beside her now half-unconscious 
daughter, “ Oh Lucile! My darling I My baby !” Then 
starting up exclaimed, “But we must have physi- 
cian ! A physician, at once ! Run, Betty, run, find a 



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• LVCILE, 167 

doctor — anyone, from anywhere — and fetch him here with- 
out delay. Every moment is precious.” 

Quickly, the willing little lass obeyed, scurrying off in the 
direction where resided the medical man who generally 
attended the family. But at the corner, her muslin skirt 
was suddenly grasped by a strong hand, and the one they 
had recently left in St. PauFs Church-yard asked in a hol- 
low, agitated voice — “ Betty, dear little Betty, tell me what 
it is ails Lucile ! She is but a wraith of her former bonny self.” 

“ Oh,” sobbed the girl, “ she has just been taken with 
the fever, is mishap dying — and I — I am going for a — ” 
But there she paused, all at once struck by a bright idea ; 
“ Why, you are a physician ! I was told to get anyone. 
So come, come and save Lucile’s life if you can.” 

For just a moment Doctor Francis hesitated. Then, 
flinging all doubts to the winds cried : “Well, all is fair in 
love and war ! ” and followed his winsome little conductor 
to the mansion forbidden to him so long. “ What, though, 
will be his reception ?” wondered Betty. 

One long surprised stare. Madam Dalrymple vouchsafed 
him as he entered the chamber to which the invalid had 
been removed, but on his enquiring respectfully, “ Have I 
your permission, Madam?” bowed a dignified assent, for 
at that supreme crisis, the mother’s anxiety had swallowed 
up even the loyalty of the Englishwoman, and already the 
girl’s pulse had mounted to 135, her cheeks were scarlet 
and her eyes glazed and glassy. 

Seeing there was no time to lose, the young man set to 
work at once, and for nearly twenty-four hours watched 
every breath she drew. 

The consuming fever was followed by a stupor from 
which it was hard to rouse her, but in the early dawn of the 
second day, she opened her eyes and gazed into his, with 
more reason than she had yet displayed. 


i68 


A LITTLE DAUGHTeE OE THE kEVoLVTtOH 


“ Dear Lucile,” he whispered softly, “ do you know me ?” 

“ Aye, it is Howard, my Howard. But I have been so 
foneiy ; — why have you stayed so long away ? ” Then as 
memory returned more fully. “ But I forgot, — you must 
go again. It is forbidden — my mother — ” 

“Consents to my staying by your side and using my 
poor skill in your behalf.” 

“ Ah, — then I must be dying. But, dearest, I care not. 
It is better than life without you.” 

And, indeed, so weak were her heart and pulse, that, 
after administering a stimulant. Doctor Francis felt in duty 
bound to summon Madam Dalrymple and Penelope. 

That fair April morning our small heroine was awakened 
by Chloe, the tears and smiles chasing each other across 
her ebony visage. 

“ What tink you, Miss Betty,” she half chuckled, half 
sobbed, — “ We’se a gwine to hab a weddin’ here dis day.” 

“ A wedding, Chloe 1 Why, what do you mean ? Who 
is to be married ?” 

“ Missy Lucile and de young rebel leech. But dey say 
she’s nigh to death. Dat’s why ole Miss gib her consent, 
when de poor tings begged her to let ’em hab deir way and 
be husband and wife for dess one hour. ‘ Nothing else 
would hab induced me,’ I heard her tell Miss Penelope : 
‘and it can’t be for long.’ Oh dear, oh dear ! ” and throwing 
her checked apron over her head, the affectionate black 
creature fairly howled aloud. 

“ There, Chloe, don’t do that ! Stop crying and come 
and help me dress. I must go to Lucile at once. Who is 
with her now ? ” 

“ Nobody but ole Miss. De doctah hab gone to fotch a 
clergyman and Mr. Dan am a-rarin’ and a-tearin’ down stairs.” 

So, in the rosy sunrise light of a sweet, blossom-scented 
Spring morning, with only her mother, Penelope, and Betty 


LUC2L£. 


169 

as witnesses, Liicile was married to Harold Francis, — pris- 
oner on parole — by the rector of St. Paul’s. Though, too, 
it was a wedding watered with many tears and the bride 
could scarce articulate the responses, her face shone like 
that of an angel and, at the close, she turned to Madam 
Dalrymple, whispering gratefully — “ Thank you, mother 
dear. Now I can die happy.” 

“ But you isn’t a-gwine to die. I dess know you Isn’t,” 
cried Chloe, coming in with a little bridal bouquet of white 
lilacs and snow drops. “Joy is fustrate physic, and I 
reckon you needed de doctah more’n his medicine.” 

Truly, too, the negress’ words were prophetic for, from 
that hour, to everyone’s astonishment, Lucile commenced 
to improve. Slowly but surely her strength returned, and 
she gained from day to day. 

“ it was a trick ; all a trick to get the better of my sister,” 
growled Uncle Dan, who was sorely chagrined. 

But the young couple knew they had been as honest in 
this as In their love-making and, though Doctor Francis was 
obliged to bow to the wishes of the Dalrymples and return 
to the society of his fellow prisoners, promising that not 
until the trouble betwixt America and Great Britain was 
settled, would he claim his wife, content still reigned in 
their hearts, and “ always and forever,” said they, “ will we 
love and cherish our bright little Cupid, Betty, who brought 
it all to pass,*^ 


CHAPTER XXII. 


IN THE OLD SUGAR HOUSE. 


“ Those prisons where pain and penance dwell, 
Where death in tenfold vengeance holds his reign, 
And injured ghosts there unaveng’d complain.” 


Buzz, buzz ! whir-r, whir-r ! briskly round whirled the 
big wheel and the little foot-wheel in the large pleasant 
living-room of the Van Arsdale homestead, where Peggy 
and Betty were spinning flax, for not yet had that old- 
fashioned accomplishment quite gone out of fashion, and 
the Dutch housewife had initiated the little New England 
maid, as well as her own daughter, into the intricacies of 
loom and shuttle, that she might assist in the weaving of 
the homespun linen for the Continental soldiery. 

“Who is that a likeness of ? ” enquired Betty, glancing 
up at the portrait of a sweet-faced,- fair-haired dame in 
quaint, old Holland garb, which hung above the blue-tiled 
chimney-place. “ I have often wished to ask, for the 
mouth is like yours, Peggy, though it has not so merry an 
expression.” 

“ That,” replied her friend, “ was my great aunt, Maritje 
Van Couwenhoven and much do I love to hear her romantic 
history. When only a girl of our age, more than a hundred 
years ago, she was carried off by the Indians and held a 
captive for three months,” 

“ Alack-a-day^ how sad and terrible ! Though I do not 
know that it could be much worse, than to be shut up in 


IN THE OLD SUGAR HOUSE. 


171 

the Provost or one of the other British prisons here. But 
did she escape from the red-skins at last ?” 

Oh, yes indeed, or never could that picture have been 
made. She owed her rescue to a boy whom she had be- 
friended in New Amsterdam, but who then dwelt among 
the savage tribes. Afterward she married him and went 
to live in the Old World. He became quite a famous 
artist, and that portrait painted to send to her sister, 
Blandina, who was my great-grandmother. The father 
sometimes says he wishes I could grow to be like my Aunt 
Rychie, of whom all the records speak so well, but I never 
can with my gypsy face, black mop, and hoyden ways. 
Look, though, who is that racing so fast up the garden 
path.?”^ 

‘'It is Pinky ; our black Pinky. Whatever, brings her 
hither in such a coil ! ” And Betty, herself, hastened to 
open the door for the small servant, who at once panted 
out : “ A stranger to see you. Missy, and not one bressed 

minute could she bar to wait ! So mammy made me tote 
her ober here, and dar she comes,” waving her chocolate 
hand, as she spoke, toward a lean, gaunt female in a green 
calash, who was hobbling painfully in her wake. 

“ Who in the world is it ! ” exclaimed the young girl, 
shading her eyes from the September sun. “ Can it really 
be Mehitable Sparhawk ! ” 

“ Hitty, or her ghost!” piped a high pitched, long re- 
membered voice. “ And thank the Lord, Betty Melville, 
I’ve faound ye at last. Half the way hev I walked from 
Boston, and I’m putty nigh beat out. Naow, if you can’t 
help me. I’ll be jest ready to give up and drap daown in 
my tracks.” And she did actually sink upon the doorstep, 
as she flung her bony arms around her former charge in an 
affectionate embrace. 

" Poor, dear old Mehitable, you do look weary enough ! 


172 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

But what brings you to New York, and how ever did you 
get through the lines ? ” 

“Oh, I’m a-chasin’ Fly! Chasin’ Fly, as I’ve done ever 
sence he was a pulin’, botherin’ babby. One o’ them long- 
haired riflemen told me he was took prisoner, and thrown in 
a dungeon here, so I jest ‘girded up my loins,’ as the Bible 
sez, and tramped off, catchin’ a ride when I could, to see ef 
he needed me to yank him out of trouble agin.” 

“ Fliakim in one of those awful prisons ! Ah — h ! ” and 
Betty shuddered, as she thought of the agonized faces she 
had seen pressed against the iron bars, of the dead cart, 
rattling over the stones with its load of victims who had 
succumbed to prison fever, prison filth, and prison famine: 
and of the stories she had heard of torture and torment 
within those frowning stone walls. 

“ Don’t you think you could help me find him?” And 
the eager, distressed expression on the Yankee woman’s 
sharp features savoured of real pathos. 

“ I will try,” said Betty, gently, though she was at a loss 
how to go to work to penetrate those jealously guarded 
strongholds. 

“ Perhaps your red coat friend. Major Andre, might be of 
some assistance,” suggested Peggy, who had drawn near, to 
hearken to the conversation. 

“ The very thing! I wonder I did not think of that at 
once. But your noddle, dear, is always the readiest. If 
there was anyone to take it, I would write him a note without 
delay.” 

“Perhaps Jack would be your messenger. He is home 
now, and hark ! there he is, whistling The Beggars of the 
Sea, up on the roof. Always and forever, is my brother 
bringing our hearts into our mouths, and making our heads 
to reel, by his climbing and clambering where only a cat or 
a chimney-swallow ought to venture. I warrant that this very 


IN THE OLD SUGAR HOUSE, 


173 


minute, he is on top of the pole, fixing the weather-vane, 
which was blown over in the last gale. A veritable monkey 
is Jack.’* And as the words left her lips, the agile sailor lad 
came swinging from a projecting ledge, and dropped down 
on the grass almost at their feet. 

“Good-day to ye, fair jufvrouws ! he cried, doffing his 
glazed hat, and bringing out the Dutch word with a roll. 
“ I hope you do not object to your admirers tumbling 
down from the skies in this fashion.” 

“ Not if they always come in such good season,” laughed 
his sister, “ for Betty was just now wishing she had some- 
one to bear a message to the English Adjutant-General.” 

“ Bless my tops’l, the little lady aims high ! Well, sweet 
Bettina, I am at your service.” 

“ Oh, thank you, Jack ! Then, if you will give me a quill, 
I will scratch a few lines for you to take to the headquarters 
on Broadway — the old Kennedy House.” 

“ And if the gallant Major is not within ? ” 

“Then leave the billet with Laune, his servant. You 
know Laune, do you not ? A small man, not so tall as I 
am.” 

“Aye, I know Andre’s dwarf. He is a steady little craft, 
with plenty of ballast, and devoted to his master.” And in 
ten minutes, the jolly Jack Tar was speeding away, while 
Betty conducted Mehitable to King Street, to be rested and 
refreshed. 

Shortly before sunset, the genial, gentle Andre answered 
the girl’s petition in person. He came in company with 
Fred Dalrymple, and both young officers wore their full 
dress uniforms, for on that 19th of September, Colonel 
Williams of the 80th, gave a dinner to Sir Henry Clinton 
and his staff, in the fine old Kip mansion on the East River, 
and they were on their way thither. 

“So, Madmoiselle Betty,” he said, laughingly, “you 


174 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

want my permission to enter our jails, and bear off one of our 
prisoners of war ? Isn’t that a pretty daring request for a tiny 
rebel ? How do I know your object is not to ‘ spy out 
the poverty and misery of the land,’ therein ? ”^ 

“ Because, sir, I am not a Margaret Moncrieffe,” replied 
the little damsel, demurely. 

“Ha, ha, ha!” while her cousin Fred likewise, roared 
with amusement. “Well, you are a captivating puss, any- 
way, and I am too much of a gallant to refuse a request 
from a lady’s lips. Therefore, I have bidden Laune make 
enquiries as to the whereabouts of this Fliakim Sparhawk 
and, if found, to-morrow he shall bring you an order which 
I will leave with him, as I myself am on the eve of depart- 
ure, for a short trip out of town.” 

“Do you go for your health, dear Major?” 

“Possibly for my welfare, but more for the welfare of our 
Royal cause. But, see, Fred, the shadows are lengthening, 
and we must hasten if we would be there when the soup is 
served. Farewell, sweet Betty, and in your prayers remem- 
ber John Andre. He may need them.” 

“Oh, I will, I will indeed! And for your kindness, 
Mehitable and I thank you with all our hearts.” 

Gracefully the young man bent to kiss her hand, and then 
she stood in the doorway, watching and waving “good-bye,” 
until he lifted his chapeau in a parting salute and dis- 
appeared around a corner. Little though, did she dream, 
that she was never to behold that bright, blithe being 
again ! 

“ Well, Fred, how went off the dinner last night?” asked 
Lucile at the breakfast table next morning, “ Was it a fine, 
brilliant affair ? ” 

“Very,” replied the Lieutenant, helping himself to bacon. 
“ Plenty of wine^ wit, and song ! Never saw I Andre in such 



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IN THE OLD SUGAR HOUSE, 


spirits ; he seemed fairly bubbling over with fun and repar- 
tee.” 

“The feast was given for him, was it not ?” enquired 
Penelope. 

“Yes, a sort of farewell before he starts on this secret 
expedition : the nature of which the ‘ powers that be,’ do 
not divulge to us of lesser rank. It must be of weighty im- 
port, however, for Sir Henry Clinton’s toast was ‘ Good 
fortune and success to our Adjutant-General, who, if all 
goes well, will return to us Sir John Andrd’ ” 

“ A title ! ” cried Madam Dalrymple. “ That is an honour, 
forsooth ! But he will grace it finely.” 

“You would think so, mother, if you had heard him last 
evening, when he sang Wolfe’s Military Chanson, Why^ 
Soldiers, Why? His countenance fairly sparkled with 
enthusiasm, and he gave it in rare, debonair style.” 

“ Oh, Cousin Fred, what is that ?” exclaimed Betty. “ I 
do not know the melody. Will you not sing it for us ?” 

And as the rest, also, urged this request, the young Lleu- 
tentant stood up and trilled out In his rich, baritone voice 
what really proved to be poor Andre’s — as well as General 
Wolfe’s ! — “ Swan’s song,” 

“ Why, soldiers, why, 

Should we be melancholy, boys ? ” 

Why soldiers, why, 

Whose business ’tis to die ! 

For should next campaign 

Send us to Him who made us, boys, 

We’re free from pain ; 

But should we remain, 

A bottle and kind landlady 
Makes us all well again.” 


The last notes had scarcely died away amidst the appre- 
ciative family applause, when a sharp rapping on the brass 


17 ^ A LITTLE DAUGHTER OE THE REVOLUTION. 

knocker announced the coming of Laune, and Betty was 
summoned out to see him. 

“ My master left this for you, Miss,” said the wee man, 
doubling up in a low, respectful bow, and handing her a 
folded paper, “ I am directed, too, to inform you that the 
rifleman, Fliakim Sparhawk, is confined in the Sugar House 
adjoining the old Dutch Church in Nassau Street.” 

“ Oh, goody ! Then you have discovered him ! How 
glad Mehitable will be.” And off danced the girl to share 
the welcome news with the anxious woman, and read to her 
the order penned by her Tory friend. 

Headquarters, New York. Sept. 20, 1780. 

‘ Permission is here given to Miss Elizabeth Mellville, 
a female servant, and escort to enter the Sugar House Pri- 
son and, if they see fit, to remove from thence one prisoner. 

“ ‘ J. Andre, 

“ * Adjutant-Gen’l.’ ” 

Madam Dalrymple strenuously opposed her niece’s visit 
to the gruesome jail, but Lucile, and even Fred, spoke up 
in her behalf, and as Jack Van Arsdale, happening in, 
offered to accompany them, she was at length induced to 
grant a reluctant consent. 

So, just as Major Andre was setting forth on his ill-fated 
mission up the Hudson to meet the traitor Arnold, our trio 
armed with his official permit started for the old Sugar 
House so much diverted from its original purpose, and, 
quarter of an hour later, entered upon a scene fit for 
Dante’s Inferno. 

Oh, such wretched, ragged, emaciated creatures as lay, 
lounged, or huddled on all sides, glaring at them with wild, 
half-starved eyes, and holding out skeleton-like arms, while 


IN THE OLD SUGAR HOUSE. 


177 


cries and groans and curses reverberated throughout the 
place ! 

Betty would have drawn back, but Mehitable pushed 
resolutely on, and a silver coin which the young sailor slipped 
into the jailor s palm, quickly led them to the heap of dirty 
straw on which was stretched thin, fever-stricken, and alas ! 
dying Fly. For one glance was sufficient to show that his 
minutes were numbered. 

“ Fliakim, my poor, poor brother!” And with a low 
moan, Mehitable bent over him. 

The voice seemed to rouse him, and, opening his eyes, 
while the ghost of a smile flitted across his pinched features, 
he gasped — “Hitty! Hitty!” And his gaunt hand 
clutched hers in a convulsive grasp. Then, with a touch 
of the old time humour, he drawled more slowly than 
ever, — “ So you’ve come to see me peg out arter all ! An’, 
Hitty, it won’t take so drefful long as you thought. That 
undertaker, too, needn’t fotch a bill. The Dead Cart is 
good enuff for men who die for their country.” 

“ Aye, when they fall into the‘enemy’s iron grasp,” sobbed 
Mehitable, while Betty turned away to hide her emotion 
and Jack had hard work to comfort her. 

But, Hitty,” went on the laboured breath, “I kinder 
think the good Lord will let poor, ole, shiftless Fly into 
heaven, he’s hed sech a monstrous lot of hell on earth.” 

After that, he sank into apparent unconsciousness and lay 
motionless for nearly half an hour, while his sister sat grim 
and silent, and Betty wept softly, with Jack whispering ten- 
derly in her ear. 

Suddenly, however, the dying man started and sat bolt 
upright on his pallet. He raised one arm and pointed 
toward a distant part of the dark, dreary, prison room. 

Thar, — thar — 1 ” he ejaculated — “ The — south — east — 
corner 1 Be — sure — an’ — look — thar.” Then he fell back 


lyB A LITTLE DAUGHTER OE THE REVOLUTION, 

and good-for-nothing, lovable Fly was beyond the ** sighing 
and the weeping ” of the old Sugar House. 

Ten minutes had elapsed, since the sharpshooter’s weary, 
nine months term of imprisonment was thus brought to a 
close, when Jack — more in order to divert Betty from Mehit- 
able s grief, than anytliing else — suggested : “ Come, let us 

go and take a peep over yonder in the south-east corner. 
It may possibly be that the poor fellow’s last words were not 
altogether the vagaries of a beclouded brain. Some friend 
of his may be there.” 

So, hand in hand, the two young people tip-toed across the 
damp, foul floor, and through the haggard throng, to the 
spot indicated by the pointing index finger of the dying 
prisoner. But all they found was another miserable wretch, 
on another bed of straw, raving in delirium, — a sight that 
was only too common in that dungeon hole. So thin he 
was, that it seemed as if the bones must soon prick through 
the skin, and a rough beard, of many weeks’ growth, covered 
all the lower part of his face. 

“ It is no one that I know,” remarked Jack. 

“ Nor I,” said Betty. “ But poor man ! It is likely he 
is somebody’s father or brother.” And touched with com- 
passion, she laid a soft, cool hand on the unfortunate’s 
burning brow, and wetted his parched lips with some of the 
rare old wine fetched for the Yankee rifleman, but which he 
no longer required. For several moments, too, she and 
Jack lingered, fanning the insensible patient with their hats, 
and, while thus engaged, were suddenly startled by a loud 
surprised cry behind them. Turning, they discovered that 
Mehitable had followed closely in their wake, and was now 
standing with wide distended eyes, gazing almost distractedly 
upon the sick captive. 


IN THE OLD SUGAR HOUSE, 


179 


Merciful heavens ! ” she ejaculated, throwing up her 
hands ; “ It is the Captain ! ” 

“ What Captain ? ” asked Jack, completely puzzled. 

Captain Melville, of Boston, to be sure.” 

“What! My father!” screamed Betty. “Oh, no, no, 
Hitty I It can never be.” 

“ But it iSo It is, I tell you,” and, falling on her knees, 
this faithful retainer of the family, lifted the prostrate man^ 
and gently rested his head upon her shoulder. “ It’s the 
long hair and beard, and the starvation which hev chancred 
him so ; but Lorsey massy, Mehitable would know Thomas 
Melville among a million 1 See Betty, child, doesn’t ye rec- 
ollect this lock always a-tumblin’ over his forehead, this 
straight nose, and the teenty scar here on the left cheek ? ” 

“ O, daddy, daddy ! To think of finding you like this ! ” 
sobbed the girl . “ But can we not take him away ? Away 

from this horrible spot ?” 

“That ye can’t, miss,” sneered a turnkey, who just then 
came sauntering by, and stopped to stare and grin. “ These 
ere cursed rebels are prisoners of war, a-gettin’ their 
deserts, and only death or the Gineral-in-Chief kin give ’em 
their ticket of leave.” 

“ Well, how about the Adjutant-General ? ” demanded 
Jack. “ He speaks for his Chief doesn’t he?” And pull- 
ing forth Andre’s order, he held it before the guard’s astound- 
ed gaze. “ You observe, this permits the removal of one 
prisoner, so unless you want to get into trouble with your 
superiors, just stir your stumps and help us carry the man 
out of this purgatory. Faugh 1 A kitten couldn’t live in 
such an atmosphere 1 ” 

And so it was that in place of poor, shiftless Fliakim, and 
thanks to one of the red-coated foe, the prison gates swung 
wide for the father of our little daughter of the revolution, 
and he was borne on a litter to the Van Arsdale’s hospitable 


l8o A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

house, where he was accorded a most cordial welcome and 
tenderly nursed back to life and health. 

But for many a long year, Mehitable s sharp eyes would 
be misty with tears whenever she thought of her careless 
brother — now exalted into a hero, — lying in the old VVall- 
about with thousands of the unknown dead. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THE CHANGES AND CHANCES OF WAR. 

“ Round the hapless Andre’s urn 
Be the cypress foliage spread ; 

Fragrant spice profusely burn, 

Honours grateful to the dead. 

* * m * * 

Fame, his praise upon thy wing, 

Through the world dispersing tell ; 

In the service of his King, 

In his country’s cause he fell ! ” 

Hobler’s Glee. 

“Well, the jig’s up ! The cat’s out of the bag and Andre 
is a prisoner in the hands of the rebels !” 

It was young Lieutenant Dalrymple who made this an- 
nouncement, scarcely a week after the exciting discovery in 
the old Sugar House, as he entered his mother’s drawing- 
room one evening, looking quite pale and unnerved with 
agitation. 

“Andrea prisoner! But why, for what ?” screamed all 
three women. 

“ Arrested as a spy they say, but so far as I can make 
out. Sir Henry has for some time been in secret corre- 
spondence with Arnold, regarding the giving up to him of 
West Point, that much coveted key to the Hudson river.” 

“Bless me! Has General Arnold turned traitor?” 
gasped Lucile in amazement. 

“ That he has ! Come over to our side, body and boots, 
and is now parading round here in a scarlet uniform.” 

“ Disgraceful ! ” 


i 82 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTIONS 


''Aye, but it would have been a rare fine thing for us if 
'John Anderson’ — as the Major called himself — had not 
been suspected and captured by a trio of country louts up 
near Tarrytown, and papers, revealing the whole transac- 
tion, found inside his stockings.” 

‘'But, Cousin Fred, what will they do to him?” asked 
Betty, who had listened in breathless silence. “ They won’t 
hang him, will they, as you British did poor Nathan Hale ?” 

'‘ God forbid ! ” cried Madam Dalrymple, covering her 
face. " Such a talented young man, and only twenty-nine !” 

The officer shook his head gloomily. “ I don’t know,” 
he said, “ it is a bad business ! The result rests largely 
with Washington and Clinton. I should think the latter 
would yield almost anything to obtain the release of his 
Adjutant-General ! He has always professed such an at- 
tachment for him.” 

So thought most of the Tories of the town, and heaven 
and earth were almost moved to save the gay, gallant sol- 
dier, the darling of so many hearts. 

But as we know, it was all in vain. The one thing, that 
could have restored him to life and liberty, the Commander- 
in-Chief did not consider compatible with his honour. That 
is the giving up of the traitor Arnold, though the Ameri- 
can leader sent messengers to warmly urge the exchange. 

So the scoundrel, guilty of basest treason, was rewarded 
with a brigadiership and a good round sum of money, for 
his desertion of his friends and comrades ; and one golden 
morning, in early October, John Andre, that flower of Eng- 
lish chivalry, met the ignominious fate of a spy, on the 
gibbet at Tappan. 

It was, too, more than forty years ere an ungrateful nation 
remembered the unhonoured grave of its loyal, devoted son 
and removed his mutilated remains to Westminster Abbey 
where, however, they at length rest beneath an inscription 


The changes and chances op wae, 183 

setting forth that he ‘‘ fell a sacrifice to his zeal for his King 
and country, universally beloved and esteemed by the army 
in which he served, and lamented even by his foes.” 

But time rights many things and in the same manner the 
statue which, after a century of oblivion, has been erected to 
Nathan Hale, in the very heart of the busy noisy metropolis, 
was a late as well as a fitting memorial to the patriotism of 
the young Yale student, and soldier-spy, who died for the 
cause of liberty in bloody ’76. 

When the news that the execution of Andre had actually 
taken place reached New York, the city was at once 
plunged into wrathful sorrow. As one historian tells us — 

“No language can describe the mingled sensation of 
horror, grief, sympathy, and revenge that agitated the whole 
garrison, a silent gloom overspreading the general counten- 
ance ; the whole army and citizens of the first distinction 
went into mourning.” 

The Dalrymples were among these last, and the “ Queen’s 
Rangers ” who knew the young Major best, were com- 
manded to henceforth wear black and white feathers in 
memory of a soldier “ Whose superior integrity and uncom- 
mon ability did honour to his country and to human 
nature.” 

As for Betty, she nearly cried her bonny brown eyes out, 
and was not consoled even by the wonderful increase in vital- 
ity and return to consciousness of her lately restored father, 
who was now quite serene and comfortable in Dame Van 
Arsdale’s best feather bed. 

“ For Daddy,” she sobbed, after the first rapturous greet- 
ing between parent and child had subsided, “ though I 
am glad, so glad, that the wicked plot and treason were 
frustrated ; I did love Major Andr^ dearly, dearly ! But 
for him, too, you would be dead or still a captive in the 
prison Sugar House.” 


184 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTIOH, 


“ That is so, bless his noble young heart, and rest his 
soul,” cried the invalid. “ It is dreadful, also, to hear such 
news of my old General ! Great Heavens ! If Benedict 
Arnold is false, who can we dare to trust ?” 

“ Nobody, I verily do think,” said Mistress Van Arsdale, 
coming in with a bowl of broth. “ Nobody, except God 
and George Washington.” 

The kindest of the kind, were the genial Knickerbockers 
to the “ stranger within their gates,” and before Christmas, 
Captain Melville was able to take short walks abroad, and 
spent many hours on the broad, sunny stoop, or beside the 
big, cheery wood fire. 

None of the Dalrymples would visit him, but they per- 
mitted Betty to go every day, and one morning as she en- 
tered, she was nearly knocked down by a huge black creature, 
which came bouncing upon her, licking face and hands in a 
boisterous ecstacy of joy and welcome. 

“Ow, ow!” she shrieked. Then, after the first shock. 

Why, he is the image of True ! Can it be our own dear, 
darling, old doggy ? ” 

“ It is true, that True it is,” laughed a merry voice above, 
and down the balusters slid Jack, ending in a somersault 
before her. “ While here is someone else to beg one of 
those bear’s hugs you are wasting on a dumb beast.” 

“ Win !” 

And in another instant, the brother and sister were in 
each other’s arms. 

“ Now tell me how it happens that you are here,” said 
Betty, when seated on each side of their beaming father, the 
youth and maiden looked enquiringly at each other, and 
marked the changes that five years had wrought. 

“ Oh, this is the good geni who wafted me hither,” re- 
plied Winthrop, nodding toward Jack. “ The mate of the 
Sea Gull is a rare clever chap, and he managed to smuggle 


THE CHANGES AND CHANCES OF WAE. 185 

me past the British outposts and into New York. He told 
me my sister needed something to cheer her up.” 

At this the sailor reddened slightly, and sauntered away 
whistling, with his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his 
baggy trousers, while Captain Melville put in, “ And I 
needed my son, likewise. Oh, Winthrop, I rejoice that you 
cannot realise all I have suffered on long, weary marches 
in the depth of winter and through Canadian wilds, on the 
battle field, and in that ‘ durance vile.’ Never did I think 
to see my beloved children again.” 

‘‘ But now,” said the boy, “ I trust, when this cruel war is 
over, we can once more have a home of our own. I sup- 
pose, though,” he added, “we shall be as poor as church 
mice ! Already the paper money is scarce worth the stuff 
on which it is printed. Think of paying one hundred and 
fifty dollars for a bushel of corn ; and two thousand for a suit 
of clothes ! Why, in Philadelphia, some of the dandies 
light their pipes with the Continental currency.” 

“ Aye,” sighed the father, “ the future is not over bright. 
But let us hope for the best. Only last night, Winthrop, 
I was talking with my generous host, Mr. Van Arsdale, 
about my strong desire that you should have a college 
course. He was very kind and promises, if our side wins, 
to aid me all he can. As for myself, my one ambition is to 
return to Boston, take up again my profession of law, and 
live quietly, with sweet Betty here, as my dear, little house- 
keeper.” And, leaning over, the soldier pressed a kiss on 
the girl’s smooth, blooming cheek. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


ON THE BOWLING GREEN. 

“ Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, 

And this be our motto, ‘ In God is our trust,’ 

And the Star Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave, 

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” 

Francis Scott Key. 

“ Betty, let me present to the new captain of the 
Sea Gull! ” 

Laughing merrily, Peggy made this introduction, and 
with a start, her friend exclaimed, “ What ! Is that so ! Is 
Jack really a full-fledged captain?” and hastened to offer 
her congratulations to the young man who had just attained 
his majority as well as this fresh honour. 

Yes,” he said, “ I am now commander of that trig little 
schooner, and as proud of her as though she was an ocean 
merchantman.” 

They were standing on the Bowling Green, in front of 
Fort George, gazing out over the broad, blue bay, flecked 
with many ships riding at anchor, and the two girls, now 
well-grown maidens of seventeen and nineteen, formed a 
strikingly fair picture in their lutestring gowns and large 
Zealand hats, while over the sister isles of Long Island and 
Manhattan floated the purple mist of a halcyon Indian 
summer day, even as though the dusky Sachems, who once 
owned the land, had returned to smoke their calumets of 
peace. 

And truly peace, triumphant peace, breathed in the very 
air ! For it was now more than a year since Cornwallis 


OiV THE BOWLING GREEN. 


i$7 

surrendered at Yorktown ; nearly three months since the 
final treaties betwixt America and England were signed at 
Paris ; and to-day the British troops were to bid farewell to 
the new world and leave the “Sons of Liberty” in quiet 
possession. 

Already the Tory citizens of New York had been forced 
to depart out of the country, and to Betty there was a 
shadow on even the brightness of this glorious day, when 
she thought of the distress of her Aunt Dalrymple, Pene- 
lope and Uncle Dan, at being obliged to leave their com- 
fortable home on the street once known as “ King,” but 
now re-christened into Pine Street. 

“ Oh, woe ! woe is me ! ” moaned the poor old lady, and 
her only consolation was when Lucile, putting her arms 
around her neck^ whispered : 

“ Do not despair, dear mother ! You know I have mar- 
ried a patriot soldier, so may remain. Howard and I will 
live in this house and care for everything, until the bitter- 
ness of the war feeling has passed away. Then, no doubt, 
you will be allowed to return, and we can all live happily 
together once more.” 

Young Mrs. Francis also begged that she might keep 
Betty with her, and to this. Captain Melville, struggling to 
re-establish himself in his profession at Boston, and to send 
Winthrop through a New Jersey college, granted a cheer- 
ful consent, contenting himself, for the nonce, with Mehita- 
ble as housekeeper. 

So the pretty, brown-eyed belle — as she had now become 
— was in New York on this day of evacuation, November 
25th, 1783, and, in company with Peggy and a bevy of 
other jubilant young folks, after watching the rneanly-clad, 
weather-beaten men led by Washington, Major-General 
Knox, and the Westchester Light-Horse, as they marched 
from Harlem to Bowery Lane, hastened down to the Green, 


iS8 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

from whence a view might be had of the embarcation of 
the red coats. 

“ Of all the lobsters, I am gladdest to speed the going of 
that haughty, insolent Reginald Burnaby,” remarked Miss 
Van Arsdale, with a toss of fjer raven braids. “ What think 
you he once asked me? ‘ If I did not tremble at the roar- 
ing of the British lion ?’ ” 

“And what answer did you make to that, Miss Marga- 
ret?” enquired Jacobus Kip, one of the beruffled dandies 
in her train. 

“ Of course I told him no. For,” added I, “ when we 
studied natural history at Mistress Joy’s, we were taught 
that that beast roars loudest when he is most affrighted.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! ” chorussed all the coterie. 

“A retort worthy of Madcap Peg!” chuckled Jack. 
“ And now I wonder how Master Burnaby will relish the 
screech of the American eagle. But, bless me 1 who ap- 
proaches ? Surely it is that naval chap I became such fine 
friends with in the port of Boston — while, if I mistake not, 
Betty, he is an old acquaintance of yours.” 

“What is his name ?” asked the girl. 

Jack failed to reply, but as soon as he had welcomed the 
new-comer, presented “ Ensign Lovering of the frigate 
Alliance'' A Joe, catching her two hands, cried: “Can 
this really be little Betty Melville, of Pudding Lane?” 

“ The very same,” she laughed, “ though never should I 
have recognised my boy neighbour in this bronzed officer in 
the fine, blue uniform.” 

“Well, the rig has seen considerable service,” quoth the 
young man, glancing down at his brass buttons ; “ and 

tliere lies my ship over yonder,” pointing to a craft from 
the mast-head of which fluttered a flag bearing a coiled-up 

rattlesnake, thirteen stripes, and the motto, “ Don’t tread on 
>1 


ON THE BOWLING GREEN. 


189 


Gayly, then, the ball of conversation was tossed back and 
forth in the waiting group of blithe lads and lasses ; but 
Ensign Lovering seemed to have eyes and ears for no one 
but the dainty New England maid whom he had known in 
the “ Days of Auld Lang Syne.” 

“ She is just the dear, little Betty of old, grown bigger 
and bonnier ! The bud developed into the half-blown rose,” 
bethought. Nor could he remove his gaze from her ani- 
mated face even when, shortly after one o’clock, the depart- 
ing troops came filing down to the water’s edge, their 
scarlet coats and burnished arms glittering as brightly as 
ever in the sunlight, though their countenances were gloomy 
and crestfallen. 

“ There go your Grenadiers and Waldeckers, Peggy ; and 
my picturesque Highlanders,” observed Betty, as they em- 
barked at Whitehall, for the temporary camp on Staten 
Island. Then amid shouting and cheering and the roar of 
artillery. General Knox came marching down to take for- 
mal possession of Fort George. 

“ I knew him well when he was just plain Henry Knox, 
behind the counter of the book-shop in Boston,” remarked 
Joe. “ And Miss Betty, do you recall this, and this ? ” Say- 
ing which, he produced from an inside pocket the clumsy 
silver “turnip” she had won for him with her cup of tea, 
and half of a silver sixpence. 

“ Yes,” she answered with a slight blush, “ though I fear 
my half of the sixpence was lost long ago. But, oh, Mr. 
Lovering, how that watch brings back granny and the 
famous tea-party ! Can you believe that it is ten years 
since then ? ” 

“ Ay, for it has seemed twice a decade to me.” But just 
then, they were interrupted by an angry exclamation from 
J ack. 

“Look” he cried “what does that mean? The Tory 


190 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 


flag yet waves over the fort ! ” And all eyes were turned 
to where the royal, red-cross banner of England still ap- 
peared on the North bastion. 

“ Alackaday ! Can it be that the King’s men are coming 
back?” gasped small Goosen Kip, a young brother to Ja- 
cobus. 

“Not a bit of it,” shouted a fat little Dutchman, who 
waddled by at the moment. “ It is because the rascals have 
the halyards cut and the pole slushed with grease, so that 
it cannot be reached. I warrant, too, they are laughing in 
their sleeves at our discomfiture. By St. Nicholas, I wish 
every mother’s son of ’em was chained and shut up in the 
Provost ! ” 

“ A mean trick, I vow ! ” said Jacobus. 

“ That it is, and I dare wager it is all the work of that 
vile Cunningham, for only this morning he tried to tear 
down the ‘ rebel rag,’ as he called the Stripes and Stars, 
from before the inn in Murray street. But he counted 
without his host, ha, ha ! — or rather without his hostess ! 
For forth rushed Mistress Day, broomstick in hand, and 
gave the Marshal such a whacking over the head that the 
powder flew from his wig like snow in January and he scut- 
tled off like a scared rabbit.” 

“That was first-rate!” shrieked the Kips, while Jack 
declared — 

“ But those rascally red coats must not be let to laugh 
long!” 

“ Indeed they must not,” cried Betty, her cheeks all 
aflame. “ Here, young gentlemen, now show your gallantry 
and loyalty 1 Who ever brings down that flag shall wear 
my favour.” And taking off the cockade given her by Wash- 
ington and which she now wore openly upon her breast, 
she held it aloft. “ Which knight will earn the badge of 
buff and blue ? ” 


f 



i % 


WHICH KNIGHT WILK 
OF BUFF AND BLUE 


EARN THE BADGE 

."—Page jgo. 


n 


•* 


f 


» • 


I 



ON- THE BOWLING GREEN 


i9t 

The words had scarce left her lips before Captain Van 
Arsdale and Ensign Lovering were off on a smart run 
across the Parade, with small Goosen pelting at their 
heels. 

But on reaching the fort, Jack paused. — “ As a stranger, 
you should be accorded the first chance,” he said cour- 
teously, withdrawing into the background. 

“ Thanks ! ” And stepping forward, Joe offered to try his 
hand at climbing the flag-staff, a service which was most 
eagerly accepted by Colonel Jackson, now at his wit’s end. 
But to wriggle up a greased pole is no mean task, even for 
a sailor who is at home in the mast-head, and three ^tirnes 
the young naval man came slipping down, covered with 
grease and mortification. 

“ Confound it ! ” he muttered in his chagrin. 

Meanwhile, Jack was holding a whispered conference 
with the youngest Kip. “ Run, Goosen,” he said, “ run 
to the ironmonger’s shop in the Broadway and fetch me 
cleats, hammer, and nails. That will fix em ! Be quick 
and I will buy you as many cheese cakes as you can 
munch.” 

With this dazzling promise in view, the urchin flew to 
obey, and on his return, — Jack saying, “ Now, Lovering, it 
is my turn!” took the Ensign’s place and began slowly 
working his way upward, nailing on the cleats as he went. 
Before sunset, then, the red cross standard came fluttering 
down and the Stars and Stripes floated over Fort George, 
while a joyful salute of thirteen guns announced the fact. 

“Well and bravely done, my fine bluejacket!” cried the 
plump and overjoyed Dutchman, while his particular 
friends shouted : “ Huzza, huzza, huzza ! Three cheers for 
Captain Jack!” and half shyly, Betty pinned the buff and 
blue cockade upon the hero of the hour. 

“ Thank thee, little sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear, 


19 ^ A LITTLE EAtiGHTEk OE THE kEVOLUTtOH: 

and it is with me, is it not, you will come to-night to wit- 
ness the fireworks ? ” And to this, she gladly nodded 
assent. 

Oh, a festal evening was that for the Whigs of New 
York! And the rockets, stars, and tourbillions were no 
brighter than Betty Melville’s sparkling eyes. “ Only I 
wish we could have a peep at -Washington,” she said. 

“They tell me,” replied Jack, “that to-night he is din- 
ing with Governor George Clinton and other army officers, 
at Black Sam’s tavern. Suppose that by that way we go 
home.” 

The pavements were still thronged with sightseers, when 
the youthful couple found themselves standing in Broad 
Street, right opposite the hostelry kept by the Frenchman 
Fraunce, which was now ablaze with lights and the windows 
filled with men in the uniform of the Continental army. 

“ Never have I chanced to see our Commander-in-Chief,” 
remarked Jack. 

“Well, there he is now,” almost screamed Betty, indicat- 
ing a tall imposing figure, the centre of the largest group, 
and one which she well remembered. 

“A noble looking man, I trow ! And it makes my heart 
beat faster just to gaze at him 1 ” 

If, however, they had been nearer, they might have 
heard Captain Delavan exclaim : “ Take my sword, if 
yonder is not the plucky, young sea-dog who outwitted the 
King’s men this day and raised the red, white, and blue 
above Fort George ! ” 

“ Is it, indeed I ” and turning, Washington spoke a few 
low words to an aide-de-camp. 

Jack and Betty scarcely knew whether to be frightened 
or pleased, when they received the message that General 
Washington requested them to step into his private apart- 
ment. 


On the BO WLiNG GREEN. 


193 


“ Shiver my bowsprit, if ever I felt so sheepish and over- 
come with confusion !” grumbled Jack. 

But one glance into the distinguished leader’s counte- 
nance, reassured Betty, as he asked, “ And who may you be, 
sweet Mistress ? ” 

Dropping a courtesy then, she answered quite clearly, to 
cover her friend’s embarrassment, “ I am Elizabeth Mel- 
ville, of Boston, your Excellency ; and this is Captain John 
Van Arsdale, commander of the Sea Gull'' 

“ The young man, I am told, who scaled the greased flag- 
staff to-day, and brought down the cross of St. George ! I 
called you in to assure you that General Washington thanks 
you, with all his heart.” 

Jack, still flushed and tongue-tied, could only bow with- 
out uttering a word, and was grateful to Betty for respond- 
ing, “ I am sure, your Excellency, ’tis the best reward he 
could have, and he appreciates it, I know.” 

“ Ah, he is lucky to have so gentle a spokeswoman,” 
said Washington, with a twinkle in his generally grave eye. 
“ Our American-Dutch boys have ever done brave deeds, 
but ’tis the daughters of Columbia who have the ready 
tongues. Fair Mistress Elizabeth, I salute thee,” and for 
the second time in her life, the great man stooped and 
pressed his lips to the maiden’s hand. 

“ O Jack, was it not monstrous grand and compliment- 
ary ! ” she exclaimed, when they were once more outside. 

“ No — yes. I don’t know. But I do know that I would 
not have been there without you, Betty, for five York 
shillings.” 

Well, never did I think to see saucy Jack so abashed,” 
laughed the girl, but it must be prodigious late. Let us 
hurry home, for Lucile will be sitting up for me.” 

“ Ye gods and little fishes, it has been a rare fine day ! ” 


194 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 

quoth Captain Van Arsdale to himself, when an hour later 
he turned in for the night. 

At the same time, too, a young officer on board the Alii- 
ance, lay in his berth, with a heart like lead, and the boyish 
dream of a full decade commencing slowly to fade away into 
unreality. 


% 


CHAPTER XXV. 

HAIL TO THE CHIEF ! 

“ That little bit of a woman cast 
Her two full eyes on me ; 

And they smote me sore to my inmost core, 

And they hold me slaved forever more, 

Yet would I not be free ! ” 

Eugene Field. 

Nearly six years have elapsed since that glad Evacuation 
Day ! Again New York is in gala dress, again her citizens 
flock to the water-edge, and again garlands and mottoes 
adorn the thoroughfares. But now the trees on parade and 
battery wear the tender, green livery of Spring, instead of 
Autumn’s russet hues, and the April air is soft and balmy. 

Among the throng we recognise several of our old 
friends. There is Heer Van Arsdale, leaning on a gold- 
headed cane, but still hale and hearty, as he stumps along 
with his buxom vrouw, and gay, gleesome Margaret. 
There is Doctor Francis and his wife, the gentle young 
matron Lucile, leading between them a chubby, little 
toddler ; and close behind. Captain Melville, with hair as 
white as snow, who has lately come on from Boston and is 
escorting his daughter, Betty, whom he declares to be 
comely enough to turn the heads of all the beaux on Man- 
hattan. 

Even that of my doting, partial, old daddy,” laughed 
the girl. “ Peggy and I, however, will not have our most 
devoted cavaliers in attendance to-day. They are better 
employed. But oh, what a charming sight ! ” 


196 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

Verily the bay and harbour did present a brilliant spectacle 
on that twenty-third day of April, 1789, with every ship 
and boat and cockle-shell a mass of bright, fluttering 
bunting. 

“Joe Lovering is on duty to-day, and his frigate is finely 
bedecked, is it not?” called Peggy. 

“ Very,” responded Betty. “ But I think the Govern- 
ment vessel, the North Carolina, is finer. She is a perfect 
nosegay of banners and streamers. Bless me, though ! 
What craft is that lying alongside of her, which shows not 
a single festive emblem ? ” 

“ It is a Spanish man-of-war, the Galveston,'' said Doctor 
Francis. 

“ Now I call that most discourteous.” 

“ Outrageous !” growled Captain Melville with a frown. 
“ And I wonder that courtly Spain should not honour Wash- 
ington with at least one flag, as he passes by to his inau- 
guration.” 

All throughout the crowd, too, were heard mutterings of 
discontent at the “ unmannerly Spaniard,” until a volley of 
cannon announced that the man chosen as first President 
of the United States had left the New Jersey shore, and 
forth from the kills darted a stately barge, rowed by thir- 
teen masters of vessels, all clad in spotless, glittering white. 

“ My son Jack is one of those wielding the oars yonder,” 
chuckled Heer Van Arsdale with satisfaction. “ And I 
warrant he makes as clean a stroke as any of ’em.” 

“ The General is sitting right in the centre,” said Mis- 
tress Francis. “Quick, Howard! Hold up the baby that 
he may see him! ” and in a twinkling the doctor had his 
rolly-polly heir upon his shoulder. 

“ And oh! oh!” screamed Betty, “Look at the Gal- 
veston ! ” 

Sure enough ! just as the barge came abreast of the man- 










HAIL TO THE CHIEF! 


197 


of-war, the Spaniard suddenly bloomed out with every flag 
and emblem known to nations, and from her deck sounded 
a salute of thirteen guns. The delicate compliment was at 
once appreciated by the spectators, and ecstatic cheers rent 
the air, while many a boy was hoarse from shouting for a 
week afterward. 

But now, the triumphal bark approaches Murray’s wharf, 
and Governor Clinton steps down to make the congratula- 
tory address. The people press forward to see the hero of 
so many battles, and Captain Melville succeeds in grasping 
and shaking his hand. As he turns away, he murmurs in a 
voice choked with emotion : “ I have beheld him when 
commanding the American armies ; I saw him at the con- 
clusion of peace, returning to the bosom of his family in his 
primeval habitation ; and now I behold him, returning to 
take the chair of the Presidentship. I have not now 
another wish but that he may die as he has lived, the be- 
loved of his country.” 

A handsome carriage is in waiting to convey the august 
guest to the Governor’s quarters in Pearl street, and a car- 
pet spread for his feet to tread ; but these he sturdily de- 
clines, and taking the arm of his host and old companion- 
in-arms walks quietly away, while the waiting crowd breaks 
forth into melody and sings, — 

Brave Washington arrives, 

Arrayed in warlike fame. 

While in his soul revives 
Great Marlboro’s martial fame. 

To lead our young republic on 
To lasting glory and renown ! ” 

Which is an old song made over to suit the occasion. 

He is grand in his simplicity,” remarks Heer Van Ars- 
dale. 

“ Aye,” responds Doctor Francis. “ One might know 


198 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 

such a man would scorn to be crowned a king, as has been 
proposed.” 

And when, again, bonfires and torches were “ lighting up 
the night’s repose ” ; Betty says to her cousin, — “ 1 am glad, 
so glad, Lucile, to have lived to see this day ; while I am 
rarely happy, also, over the word my father brings from 
Boston. That is, that next week, Mercy Lovering is com- 
ing to New York for the Inauguration, and will stop with 
us here in Pine Street.” 

Musically the bells chimed in the Christening day, as it 
were, of the infant Republic, and pious folk gathered by 
nine o’clock in the churches, to implore a blessing upon the 
new government. Others hastened early to secure good 
positions near the Federal Hall, from which to view the in- 
augural ceremonies, and Lucile and Betty, with their guest, 
Mercy Lovering, were lucky enough to secure a window di- 
rectly opposite the lately completed edifice, designed by 
Monsieur L’ Enfant. 

“ My 1 Never have I seen such a monstrous crowd ! ” 
exclaimed the Boston girl, peering down into Wall Street. 
“ And the balconies are all like beds of tulips, with such 
gayly dressed women ! You must tell me, Betty, who some 
of them are. Who is that bowing to you, now ?” 

“ Oh, that is Lady Kitty Duer, whom I often meet at 
Mrs. Jay’s Thursday receptions; and next to her is young 
Mrs. Rufus King, who was recently married. Is she not 
pretty, with her raven hair, and real Irish blue eyes? I as- 
sure you she was a picture, when she first walked out bride, 
in a gown of silver brocade, and a bonnet lined with rose 
colour.” 

“ She has a sweet face. But, dear me, what a comical 
little being that is crossing the street, on the arm of the 
foreign looking man, with the waxed, grey moustache ! ” 


HAIL TO THE CHIEF! 


199 


“You may well say so,” laughed Mrs. Francis. “The 
gentleman is the French Minister, the Marquis de Moustier, 
and that is his sister, Madame de Brehan. She is reported 
to be a clever writer and painter, but, as Mrs. Adams was 
saying the other day, she certainly has ‘ the oddest fig- 
ure, eyes ever beheld.’ Then she is very whimsical and 
capricious, and spends half her time playing with a negro 
child, or caressing a monkey. But, Betty, I do not recog- 
nise the lady nodding from a window of the Verplanck 
mansion. The one in ‘ laylock ’ silk, talking to Dorothy 
Duane, the Mayor’s daughter.” 

“Neither do I,” said her cousin, “though her counte- 
nance seems rather familiar.” 

“ Elizabeth Melville,” cried Mercy, “do you mean to say 
you have forgotten Miss Dorothy Quincy? For, of a truth, 
that is Mistress Hancock.” And both maidens hastened 
to return the salutation waved by the now well-developed 
matron. 

“ I see her sometimes at home, though rarely does she 
find her way to Devonshire Street, which is now the high 
sounding name of Pudding Lane,” 

“There comes Win at last,” presently remarked Betty, 
pointing to a fair-haired youth conducting, through the 
press of people, a young woman in a gown of drab taffeta, 
and a white bonnet. “ I began to fear we could not save 
seats for them, and I am vastly pleased, Mercy, to have you 
make the acquaintance of my sister-in-law. You know they 
were wedded soon after he left college.” 

And five minutes later, she was presenting “ Mrs. Win- 
throp Melville,” who showed a fine set of white teeth, when 
she smiled and said : “How dost thee do? I am glad to 
meet thee.” 

“So your brother trapped his little Quaker Fox, after 
all ! ” trilled Mercy in her friend’s ear. Then asked more 


200 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION. 


soberly, “ Oh, Betty, is there no hope, whatever, for poor 
Joe?” 

“ I fear not,” replied the little damsel gravely. But, 
verily, I think he will soon be consoled,” glancing to where, 
a short distance off, Ensign Lovering was laughing merrily 
at some of Peggy Van Arsdale’s witty speeches. 

“ How comes it that Captain Jack is not with you ladies,” 
enquired Winthrop, “ and father, and Doctor Francis?” 

“ Oh, daddy and the doctor are marching in the proces- 
sion with their old companies, and Jack promised to join us 
by and bye. But hark ! Is not that a band ? The troops 
must be coming.” 

Soon, then, every one was leaning out, waving and cheer- 
ing, when to the inspiriting strains of Hail to the Chief ! 
down through Queen, Great Dock, and Broad Streets to a 
station in front of the Federal building, came the well- 
equipped corps of light infantry and artillery in the striking 
uniforms of the day ; Captain Stake’s dragoons, and two 
companies of grenadiers composed of the tallest youths 
the city could boast, resplendent in red, blue and gold, with 
snowy plumes in their cocked hats, and black “spatter- 
dashes ” closely buttoned from knees to shoe buckles. Fol- 
lowing these were Captain Scriba’s German Guards, wearing 
towering, cone-shaped caps of shaggy bear-skin, and, to 
Betty’s intense delight, one regiment of Scotch Highlanders 
in the full regalia of plaids and kilts, keeping time to the 
squeaky “ twang, twang,” of their bagpipes. 

“ How fat and jolly all those German soldiers look,” 
remarked Mercy. 

“Aye,” replied Winthrop, “and no wonder! Many of 
them were, until lately, slaves to the Prince of Hesse Cassell, 
and their liberty has only just been purchased for them. 
They ought to be happy, and grateful, too.” 

But suddenly a hush descended upon both Broad and 


HAIL TO THE CHIEF! 


201 


Wall Streets, as forth on to the balcony of the Federal Hall 
stepped a figure presenting the most striking contrast to 
the long lines of rainbow-hued military, in his coat, waist- 
coat, and knee-breeches of plain brown cloth, white silk 
stockings, and shoes adorned with the simplest of silver 
buckles, and all of American manufacture. 

“ The president-elect ! ” passed from lip to lip, and, as he 
advanced and bowed with his hand upon his heart, the 
silence was broken by vociferous acclamations. 

“It is the vice-president, Mr. John Adams, on his right,” 
commented Mercy. 

“Aye,” said Lucile, “ and there are Mr. Hamilton, Roger 
Sherman, and General Knox standing in the background.” 

“ But who is the one all in black from top to toe, like a 
mute at a funeral ? ” 

“ Oh, that is Chancellor Livingston, who is to administer 
the oath of office, and see ! he lifts a Bible on a crimson 
cushion ! ” 

Instantly, then, all eyes were turned upon the “Father 
of his Country,” as saying, “ I swear,” he bent and kissed 
the Book, adding, “so help me God,” while the chancellor 
proclaimed, “ Long live George Washington, President of 
the United States ! ” 

It was a solemn as well as an impressive scene, and the 
orbs of our fair girls were wet, even while they fluttered 
their white handkerchiefs and shrilled with the rest. 

“Just in time for cake and coffee !” exclaimed a cheery 
voice behind a tall negro who, when the applause had sub- 
sided, entered with a well-laden silver tray, and there was 
Captain Van Arsdale looking a little older than when we 
saw him last, but very handsome and manly. He at once, 
made his way to the window and leaned over Betty’s chair 
saying, “Come, my ‘pocket Venus,’ sip a cup of mocha, 
and then I am going to whisk you and your friend off to St. 


202 


A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION, 


Paul’s Church, where Bishop Provoost is to conclude the 
ceremonies.” 

“ The ceremonies, but not the festivities ; ” said Betty. 
“Those are still to come — the illumination of the town to- 
night and next week, the grand ball in the City Assembly 
Rooms.” 

“Yes,” put in Lucile, “every one is anticipating that with 
such pleasure, though all regret that Lady Washington is 
not to be present.” 

“ Is she not? ’’.asked Mercy. “Who, then, will receive 
with his Excellency ? ” 

“The vice-president, I believe, and is it not odd! the 
managers have prescribed the costume to be worn by the 
gentlemen. Every man must dress his hair in a bag with 
two curls on each side, and must wear a sword at his side.” 

“ I am sorry, then, for the ladies’ thin dresses when a 
civilian, like I am, goes dancing around with a dangling 
sabre,” laughed Jacobus Kip, who had joined the party. 

“Very well. Master Bungler, if that be so, no minuet 
will I tread with you !” cried Betty. “ For my new party 
gown is a love 1 You must see it, Mercy. Such a fine 
petticoat and perriot of striped silk trimmed with ribbon cut 
into herrisons, a neck kerchief of white gauze, and a big hat 
and feathers.” 

“ La ! I fear you will outshine me completely ! But is it 
not time we were moving toward St. Paul’s ? ” 

“ Aye, quite time, for the officials seem to have all driven 
off in their chariots.” 

Jacobus Kip gave one arm to Mercy Lovering and the 
other to Mrs. Francis, and gallantly conducted them through 
the throng in Wall street. Presently, then. Jack and Betty 
found themselves alone, together — alone, although sur- 
rounded by a surging, unheeding crowd. The regiments 


HAIL TO THE CHIEF! 


203 


were dispersing, a gentle breeze fanned their cheeks, and 
over all arched the blue, fleckless, April sky. 

“ An auspicious day, truly, for the launching of our Ship 
of State,” remarked the young sailor. “ I only pray she 
may always have favourable winds and never run upon the 
rocks.” 

‘‘ Small fear, so long as she has such a captain as he who 
has just been inaugurated,” replied the girl. 

“Ah, Betty, your faith in Washington is unbounded, is 
it not? But see, sweetheart, will you not make this also a 
glad inauguration day in my heart, and let me swear fealty 
to the lady of the buff and blue cockade ?” 

The fair, golden head drooped, and there was a moment 
of breathless, palpitating silence. Then, as they entered 
into the shadow of old St. Paul’s, a smile of almost dazzling 
rapture burst forth upon the face of the little Daughter of 
the Revolution, and a confiding hand was slipped into Jack’s, 
while again a passing band played 

Hail to the Chief/ 


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